


Inktober 2019 (but writing, yknow??)

by iownthecreativewrites



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Original Work, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: AND ALSO GODS, AND IM VERY HAPPY NOW, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Myths, Ash - Freeform, Assassination, Attempted Murder, BAMF Midoriya Inko, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Bad Poetry, Bait, Canon-Typical Violence, Cat Cafés, Christmas, Christmas Tree, Coffee Shops, Dabi is Todoroki Touya, Dabi is a Todoroki, Dragons, Dryad Asui Tsuyu, Enchanted - Freeform, Fairies!, Fairy Kaminari Denki, Family, Forest God Midoriya Izuku, Frail, Gardens, Gay Panic, God Iida Tenya, God(dess) Bakugou Katsuki, God(dess) Midoriya Izuku, I LOVE MIDORIYA IZUKU, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Arson, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Death, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, Inktober 2019, Introvert Midoriya Izuku, Magic Todoroki Shouto, Medusa - Freeform, Medusa is a victim and you can't change my mind, Moon, Moon God Iida Tenya, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morally Grey Midoriya Izuku, Non-binary character, Not Beta Read, Nymph Uraraka Ochako, Original Song, Ornaments, Overgrown, POV Second Person, POV Third Person, Pantoum, Persephone Goes Willingly With Hades (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Pining Shinsou Hitoshi, Pining Todoroki Shouto, Princes & Princesses, Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki, Pro Hero Midoriya Izuku, Pro Hero Todoroki Shouto, Quirkless Midoriya Izuku, SO I COMBINED IT, Shapeshifter Kirishima Eijirou, Siren Shinsou Hitoshi, Sling me past the moon, Snow, Songwriting, Stars, Stars!, Sun God Bakugou Katsuki, Swing, TW: Blood, Tags Are Fun, Tags Are Hard, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, Tread, Unrequited Crush, Villain Midoriya Izuku, businessman Midoriya Izuku, but writing instead, dabi visits his old home and stares outside it moping when he's upset and you can't change my mind, freeze - Freeform, husky - Freeform, i love my sisters but they are shitheels, i wanna sing amongst the stars, i would kill for them but if they look at me wrong then I will DESTROY them, implied/referenced suicide baiting, is that a tag?, mindless, no beta we die like women, ring, rogues - Freeform, romanticism of space, screams in varying pitches I HAVE A LOVE/HATE RELATIONSHIP WITH MY WRITING, sleeping on friends, sling, thats our family dynamic, treasure, uhhhhh Princess, we've got a love-hate relationship, who cares it is now, why tf is that not a tag, you can really see the headcanons come through in day 13
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2020-11-15 04:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 15,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20859887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iownthecreativewrites/pseuds/iownthecreativewrites
Summary: I’m pushing myself to write every day, and so I’m using a mix of the official inktober 2019 list and elentori’s 2019 list for prompts.Tags will be updated as I go along(Or when I remember, who knows)





	1. Nursery rhymes are fun (until their song is done)

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh does this count as ring??? Who knows, I don’t. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: Ring

_Ring a ring a rosie_   


I whirl around, but there’s no one there  


There’s an acrid smell in the air,  


But I can’t get out  


I shout  


I don’t think anyone hears me  


_A pocket full of posies_  


I rifle through my pockets, and I find the flowers  


One for every hour  


That I’ve been here  


I can feel my throat closing up in fear  


Because I can see flashes  


Of  


_Ashes, ashes_  


I’m running, faster faster faster  


Ducking and dodging as the ceiling rains plaster  


I try one door, then another, and again  


All I do is burn my hand  


As the fire circles and I whirl around  


_We all fall down_  


The building crashes around me  


I think I’m screaming  


They’re in a ring around me  


The flowers in their pockets  


Ashes float around  


_We’ve come for Rosie_  


We all fall down.


	2. Out of my mind with fear (it's a black hole my dear)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Mindless & Black Hole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I chose to use the character No. 13 from My Hero Academia by Kouhei Horikoshi, I apologise if any of my characterisation is off!  
And I also apologise if you came here not wanting anything from fandoms, because I'll write a few fandoms definitely!

It's dark.  


It's dark and cold.  


It's dark and cold and I can't breathe.  


It's dark and cold and I can't breathe and I want to go home.  


I don't think I can.  


I feel like I'm ripping apart, you know?  


I feel stuck and cut adrift.  


I feel cold and burning heat.  


I feel scared and alone and brave and surrounded by people.  


I want to go home and I want to stay here.  


It's loud and deafeningly quiet and I feel surrounded and crushingly alone and it's warm and burning cold and it all adds up to -  


I feel numb.  


Everything has cut out and I feel numb.  


I'm not sure what's happening, things are dragging towards me and getting destroyed by this thing that is coming out of me but I can't control it, do you really think I know what I'm doing?  


I'm young and I'm scared and I'm older and I'm brave and I'm older still and scared again as I stand between a villain and twenty kids and I'm forced to destroy my own suit.  


I can control this, I know I can, but it's hard to when my mind has gone blank and everything is fuzzy from pain and numb from fear.  


Everything cuts back in as I hear people yelling, but I can't tell if it's my parents in the present or the workers in the future or the twenty children in the maybe-someday.  


"-ney? Sweetheart you've got to calm down! Deep breaths, like we practiced, remember?" Someone's voice cuts through the haze, even while everything is still grating on my nerve endings and tossing my senses so far into overload that I'm numb.  


I listen to the voice as it tells me to list things, starting simple with five things I can hear, then four I can see, three I can touch, two I can taste, then one I can smell. I'm back in the past, back in the small panicking body that has no clue what's happening, and someone who I think is my mum is telling me to list all of the different constellations that I can remember.  


With every name that drops from my lips, I can feel the numbness recede.  


I can feel the heat cool and the cold warm up.  


I can feel the surroundedness lighten up and the aloneness let people back.  


It's not super loud and not super quiet, it's just right.  


I can breathe and I'm home and it's not dark, and my mum picks me up and says that she will take me to the doctor to see what happened. I'm too old to be picked up now, everyone says eight years old is too old, but no one complains this time so I just settle into her arms and continue listing stars.  


I think about the future and the maybe-someday that I saw when I was out of my mind with fear and could feel nothing because of all the juxtapositions that were touching me.  


I think I like that maybe-someday, and I think I know what I'm going to call my quirk. It's like the black holes in space, and I love space, so I think it's really cool.  


I feel warm and I can see and breathe so I don't complain when mum bundles me into the car, and I just hope that I'll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be posting this in the early minutes of the third day of spook month, but I finished writing this at two minutes to midnight on the second of October so no one can fight me on this.  
In case you didn't read the start note, I was writing from the perspective of the space hero no. 13 from My Hero Academia. I apologise if the characterisation seems a little off or some of the info isn't correct, I'm not very far through the anime! I kind of made it vague, just in case I did get things wrong, but I hope I did their character justice! I kinda wanted to explore what might have happened when they first developed their quirk, and the prompts fit really well on both lists that I'm using so yeah I decided to combine them for today! I'm not sure where it ended up going but ￣\\_(ツ)_/￣ I like it!
> 
> Feel free to drop a comment or kudos, or come chat to me on Instagram @iownthecreativewrites!


	3. Catch me if you can (the trap is set)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Bait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just past midnight and it still technically counts as the third day if I started writing this last night, right?
> 
> Anyway, I'm back with more BNHA! Have fun with this one, because I certainly did.
> 
> Warnings for mentions of blood (nothing too graphic, but just in case)

His footsteps echo in the alleyway as he paces, slowly at first and then faster, faster, because he's restless and he doesn't have any weapons except for a fucking _ butterfly knife _ and that's going to be useless if the worst comes to pass.  


A bottle clinks and he freezes, because he knows that he didn't kick anything. He knows the part that he has to play and he hates it but he's going to do it anyway because they really need a win right now.  


"Hello?" He calls, making his voice higher, breathier, more scared. "Is anyone- is anyone there? C-can you he- can you p-please help me?" He forces his voice into a whimper, rolling his eyes as he hunches his body. God, this makes him feel sick. He's going to take a nice long shower when he gets back, and honestly? No one can stop him.  


A shadow moves into the mouth of the alleyway, pausing when it catches sight of the blood splattered everywhere. He grins.  


_Hook_.  


"M-mum? Is that- is that you?" His voice cracks, and he sees the shadowed figure move in closer.  


"Did you c-come back? Did you come back, mum?"  


Closer still, and he can kind of make out their outfit. Suited for the night, they're pretty smart.  


"MUM?" He yells, voice shattering with a whimper.  


The figure finally steps into the dim light.  


_Line_.  


"Hey kiddo," they crouch near him, speaking softly, " are you looking for your mum?"  


He whimpers and nods, pretending to wipe his nose on his sleeve. They've probably seen this too many times before; a teenager left dirty and crying on the streets because of some fight that killed their benefactor. That's not really what happened here, but the hero doesn't know that.  


"Where did you last see her?" They cajole, speaking softly, like he's a spooked animal. He barely holds back a scoff. They're obviously an amateur, they have no backup and don't really know what to do if you find a crying child in a bloody alleyway.  


"I-I'm not s-s-sure," he stutters, remembering the way Sensei told him that stutters aren't just repeating syllables, they're struggling to say certain consonants and repeating parts of a sentence. A good stutter can break anyone's heart, and he's been working on his.  


"She was here and now she's- now she's not and I don't know where sh-she i-is." He fakes a sob. Is he overselling it? Maybe, but then again he really really needs the hero to come closer to him so he can grab n go, but he hasn't gotten a good excuse yet.  


"Okay, um, how about you come with me hm? I can check to see if you're hurt, and then we can go to the police and see if they can find your mum, how does that sound?" The naïve little hero asks.  


_Sinker_.  


"O-okay!" He grabs the outstretched hand with four fingers.  


He yanks the hero in close.  


"There's only one problem, though," he sneers, "and that problem is that my mother is already dead."  


The hero sucks in a breath to shout and his final finger brushes the inside of their wrist. They yell as blood starts pouring out of the wound.  


Shigaraki Tomura grins -  


"Kurogiri, bring us back"  


-and falls through a warp gate into a warehouse.  


"God, I hate being bait for heroes." He mutters, dragging the still yelling hero to where Sensei and the doctor are waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so raise your hand if you saw that coming, I'm not very good with uhhh mystery, yknow???  
Anyway I'm back with more BNHA bullshit, this time a villain, because Shigaraki is just so goddamm interesting to explore.  
Not sure where this would fit into canon or anything, just imagine that they're getting people for Noumu experiments or something.  
PSA: I know jack shit about video games, the only ones I play are Minecraft and the Sims 4, and so I did not put any video game references in even though Mr Handsy likes them.  
I hope I did his character justice! I'm not sure if I've seen enough of the anime to be an accurate judge of if I wrote him ooc or not but um, I think I did pretty well!
> 
> Anyway, forgive the ramble!  
This will be crossposted to my Instagram sometime later today, when it is not dark outside, like all of my other pieces for this month.
> 
> As always, feel free to drop a comment or kudos, or come chat to me at iownthecreativewrites over on Instagram!


	4. Unfit to bear the bitter cold (unless I'm in your warm embrace)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Freeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings that I can think of, this is just pure TodoDeku fluff because I wanted at least one nice fic in this. 
> 
> The characters are from My Hero Academia and as always, I apologise if I butcher them! This is set post-canon, so they're both about twenty, both pro heroes, and they share an apartment.

It's the middle of winter, and the heater in their apartment has given out. Not only that, but it's the middle of the night, and I don't know about you, but Izuku _really_ doesn't want to try and fix it at this point in time. 

He has about sixteen blankets piled on top of him, because even though he has bulked up since his pre-UA days he still doesn't retain heat very well and it's the middle of winter, cut him some slack.

He's debating whether he should get up and find another blanket when he hears the telltale creak of the floorboards in the hallway. 

Izuku makes a split-second decision and steps out of his room, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders. 

He shuffles past the kitchen to the linen press, planning on seeing if they have any more blankets but also to see if Shouto’s in the kitchen. He is. 

“Izuku?” He calls quietly from where he's leaning on the kitchen bench. “Why are you awake?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Izuku calls back just as quietly from where he’s standing in front of the linen press, reaching for a large blanket tucked in the corner.

“...I was asleep.” Shouto says. 

Izuku smiles, hiding it in the massive fluffy blanket that is brought out for their weekly movie nights, carrying it into the kitchen with him.

“You aren’t now, though. Nightmares again?”

“Actually, no.” Shouto smiles. If it's slightly bitter, Izuku doesn't comment. "I don't remember the dream, really, I just remember that I was warm and happy when I woke up."

"I'm glad that you had a nice dream, Shouto." Izuku says. "And at least, ah fuck-" he swears as the blanket wrapped around him slips off his shoulders, lunging for it and dropping the other blanket in his arms, "at least one of us is warm."

Shouto snorts as Izuku trips and lands on the two blankets, swearing again as he knocks his chin on the tiles and his hands make contact with the cold ground.

"Are you going to just laugh at me, or are you going to help me up, you ass?"  
Shouto just laughs harder, while Izuku glares at him from where he's tangled in the blankets.

"God, I guess I have to rescue myself." He mutters, standing up and wrapping both blankets around him. "God forbid someone help me when I'm _freezing my ass off over here_." He side-eyes Shouto, who simply blinks innocently at him. 

"But I thought that, and I quote, you were 'a goddamn pro hero and twenty years old' and so you don't need my help, hmm?"

"Shut up! You took that out of context! Making my bed and falling over are two completely different scenarios!" Izuku grouses.

Shouto giggles and wow he must be tired, because Izuku hasn’t heard Shouto laugh this much in _ages_. He grins back at Shouto, feeling his heart swell a little at the fact that he's able to make Shouto laugh like this at three am.

"Okay you picky brat, you successfully distracted me, but now I get to ask you a question." Shouto finally stops laughing and levels Izuku with a playful glare. "Hold on, is that my hoodie?"

Izuku flushes red. Dammit, and he hadn't blushed yet! He was doing so well!

"U-uh yeah it is your hoodie, I guess it must've gotten mixed into my washing? I can give it back, sorry!" He rushes to explain.

Shouto smiles softly. "No, it's fine. Keep it. It suits you."

Izuku is sure his face is on fire.

"So, back to my original question." Shouto says. "Why are you awake? Have you slept at all?"

Izuku averts his eyes guiltily. "...no. It's only because the heater in my room is broken and I'm freaking freezing!"

Shouto looks thoughtful. "Why don't you- that is to say, would you like to come sleep in my room? We both know that the cold doesn't affect me that much and I'd probably be able to warm you up too."

Izuku's mind trips over itself to understand what Shouto is saying. And then he has to think even more to make sure that he's not overthinking. 

Shouto looks like he's flushed slightly, but Izuku can't really be sure in the low light. "If not, that's fine, it was just a suggestion. Don't exactly want my best friend to freeze to death, right?" His mouth curves up into a gentle smirk, and Izuku can't help but watch.

He snaps out of it a moment later when the blankets slip again and he scrambles for them once more.

"A-are you sure, Shouto? I mean, it's your room and it's your space and I know you don't really get that much sleep anyway and I really don't want to disturb you and we both know that I move around in my sleep a lot and -" Shouto cuts off his rambling with another little laugh. 

"Izuku, I wouldn't have offered if I minded. Besides, we've shared a bed before, what's once more?"

Izuku thinks about it for a moment longer, before he sighs. "In that case, I would love to, Shouto. My room is freezing and I think I'm going to die."

Shouto smiles fondly and moves from the kitchen bench, grabbing Izuku's hand as he walks past. He leads Izuku into his room before gently pushing him onto Shouto's bed. 

Izuku shoots him a quizzical look.

"Get comfy, and I'll just... fit myself in." He explains.

"O-okay Shouto, if you say so." 

Izuku slides under the covers before arranging the two blankets on top and dragging them all up to his chin. Shouto slips under the covers as well, once he's finished moving. 

They roll to face each other, but Izuku is still cold.

"Christ, Izuku, you're actually shivering. Why didn't you come say something?" Shouto scolds gently.

"Didn't want to disturb you, in case you were sleeping." Izuku mumbles in reply.

"Come here." Shouto orders gently, huffing when Izuku just looks at him.

He reaches his arm over Izuku's waist and pulls him close, tucking Izuku's face into the crook of his neck.

"Shouto-"

"Hush." Shouto cuts him off before his half-hearted protest even leaves his mouth. "Let me concentrate."

"Concentrate on wha- ohmygodyou'resowarm." Izuku practically moans as it becomes obvious that Shouto was concentrating on warming himself up with his quirk.

Shouto chuckles, letting Izuku leach his warmth.

"Thank you Shouto, you're my lifesaver." He mutters sleepily, already warming up.

"Go to sleep Izuku." Shouto replies fondly.

Izuku thinks he feels a kiss being pressed to his head, but all he can think of as he drifts off to sleep is how _warm_ he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be 110% clear. It is past midnight. I am tired. And my browser just reloaded and I lost all the fucking html I did for this goddamn fic. Why do I rely on italics so much. I hate html coding on mobile.
> 
> N e way, in the same vein of "I am tired and have no clue what I'm doing" I can't remember if I used "covers" or "doona". Just so you know, a doona is the Australian word for a duvet or your bedcovers, whatever you call it. It's thinner than your sheets, that's all I know. Also, feel free to drop a comment if you're confused about a word because most of the time I can't remember what words my family uses, what words the general Australian populace uses, and what words other countries don't use. 
> 
> Uhhhh in that vein, feel free to drop a comment or a review! Feedback is welcome, unless it's just a comment saying "this is shut" because that does not help me improve in any way, shape or form! Feel free to give this fic a kudos or to come chat with me on Instagram @iownthecreativewrites!
> 
> **Edit as of 21/10/19: I went back over this in a word document and found a couple things wrong, so I went through and edited lol. It probably helped that it wasn't 1am hahaha   
Also wow, can't believe that in the end note I managed to misspell "thinner" and then turned around and used the word "populace" in the next sentence but not misspell that. I have talent**


	5. You build silly walls (I can't bring them down)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: Build

Why do we build? What are we building? 

A pillar?

A wall?

...a cage?

All of those options are scary in their own right. 

Wanna know why?

Because if we're building a pillar, that means our foundations are cracked. Something's been wrecked, something's gone wrong, or maybe it's just that people are tired of everyone doing their part. If we're building a pillar, it means that we're about to try and stack the responsibility and blame for everything in the world onto one person's shoulders, one community's shoulders, something like that. That's not a good way to run a household, a town, a city, a state, a country. A world.

If we're building a wall, what the fuck is so scary that we're trying to keep it out? Why are we not finding out what it is we're trying to keep out and instead just burying our heads in the sand and trying to build walls to keep it out? Humanity is meant to be morbidly curious, to the point where we name robots after our curiosity and send them to space because we want to know what it's like on Mars? What happened to trying to figure out what comes next, what's out there, instead of keeping things away - things like other people just like you and me, whose only difference is that it's not safe for them at home any more so they had run away. 

And if we're building a cage? Then goddammit it's about time, because humanity is destructive and cruel and we really need to be taught a lesson in kindness. But we all know that the cage is to keep us in, yes, but it'll be made to look like a wall that is protecting us. We'll build a cage of naïveté and wilful ignorance and throw away the key as we lock ourselves in a prison of our own design. And the scariest thing about that? No one inside that cage will realise that they're in one. They'll think that they're the free ones and that everyone else is in a cage, when in fact, I'm pretty sure that everyone has been in a cage at some point or other. Some people just know how to find the weak spots and get themselves out. 

I'm not sure why we, humanity, as a whole, will build things unnecessarily. We build pillars and walls and cages and keep doing it, over and over again, even though history has shown that we shouldn't, that it's a bullshit solution to bullshit problems and that we're best off working together to build good things.

Some people think a pillar or a wall or a cage is a good thing, but they aren't. They limit our responsibility, curiosity, and creativity, and I'm not sure that I want to stand by and watch that happen anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm unsure as to why I think that I should continue to post at one am, or really any time past eleven pm. Yes it's the holidays, but school starts back in two days. I'm fucked.
> 
> Anyway, I somehow managed to do this one in half an hour, so I only have to write number six and seven and then I'm all caught up so yaaaaaaay.
> 
> I'm so tired, but I want to actually stay on top of something and keep a promise that I've made myself in regards to my writing for once. I mean, this is going better than my endeavour last year, I'll admit. That was a mistake and a half. Typing it straight into my notes app is a lot easier than writing it on paper and then typing it out.
> 
> Speaking of my notes app, can so,some please kick my ass into posting these on my Instagram??? I literally hate having to format my screenshots properly, they come out kinda shit. oh well *shrug emoji*
> 
> Feel free to leave a review, comment, kudos or chat to me on my Instagram!


	6. Starlight-bright eyes (wishing upon stars)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: Husky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE COMPLETED DAY SIX
> 
> I did not use a fandom, I finally got unstuck by looking through my exercise book from when I did an English literature/creative writing course.
> 
> The style of poetry I used is called a pantoum.
> 
> Warning for mentions of panic attacks, yelling matches and fistfights. It's only two lines, but I'm going to warn just in case. It doesn't go into detail or anything, I promise.

He wished upon a star that night  
Voice breaking with longing for another life  
He wished for a friend to appear  
And make the day seem all right.

Voice breaking with longing for another life  
He told the star of his day to get it off his chest  
And make the day seem all right  
His three panic attacks, two yelling matches and one fistfight that wasn't his fault.

He told the star of his day to get it off his chest  
The star decided to send him a friend after hearing about  
His three panic attacks, two yelling matches and one fistfight that wasn't his fault  
To make it okay for him.

The star decided to send him a friend after hearing about  
A terrible day that went wrong in every way  
To make it okay for him  
And his new friend's eyes were starlight-bright.

A terrible day that went wrong in every way  
Made better by a kindly smile and husky voice  
And his new friend's eyes were starlight-bright  
And it made him shiver.

Made better by a kindly smile and husky voice  
He slowly smiled too  
And it made him shiver  
He felt like he was falling in love.

He slowly smiled too  
As his heart began to race  
He felt like he was falling in love  
He felt like he was actually happy.

As his heart began to race  
He wished for a friend to appear  
He felt like he was actually happy  
He wished upon a star that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK ME THREE DAYS TO WRITE HOLY SHITTTTTT  
I GOT IT DONE THOUGH  
THANK GOD FOR LOUISE, SHES AMAZING
> 
> I changed my idea for this damn prompt maybe four times??? Five?? It's kind of blurry. It was originally gonna be like ShinKami date shenanigans or something but a)I'm not comfortable with how I would write them and b)that was an idea that I was really stuck on.
> 
> Anyway, we arrived at a pantoum, which I have like a love/hate relationship with, because I love reading them and writing them, but I hate having to end them. If you want to know why I'm saying "pantoum" instead of "poem" it's literally just because they're my favourite form of poetry and I like to use the poetry types lol.
> 
> Anyway! Feel free to drop a comment or kudos! Or harrass me on Instagram (@iownthecreativewrites) because I really need to post these! I love you all, thank you for being patient while I try to work around literally having no alone time except for at stupid o'clock because school went back yesterday!


	7. (All I can say is) it was enchanting to meet you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: Enchanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I know it's the fourteenth and this was meant to be done on the seventh, I've had writers block, school work, and literally no time to write except for ass o clock in the morning. I'm so tired. My brain has decided to crank two out tonight and then post them immediately, so I'm gonna be up even later formatting shit, which I _love_ doing on an iPad. (Can you hear the bitterness?)
> 
> Anyway, rant over, please enjoy gay fairies and even gayer humans and some magic star pools as well!

Iris was gone. 

The moment she laid eyes on the fairy, she knew she was done for. 

And not just because everyone knows that fairies would just as soon bargain your soul with a smile as they would help you find your way.

No, it was also because this fairy was the most beautiful thing Iris'd ever seen in her life. And believe her, she knew beautiful things.

The fairy looked up, silver hair swinging, and made eye contact with her. Before she could blink, there was someone right up in her face.

Iris startled, flinching backwards and tripping on a rock.

The fairy grabbed her arm, yanking her back upright and even closer than before.

“Hi there.” Warm breath puffed over her lips. “What can I call you?”

Iris scrambled to come up with something, all the while thinking how nice this fairy's eyes were. 

"Uh, um, y-you, you can call me Iris." she stuttered out. 

The fairy smiled, eyes softening, and giggled.

"How about I just call you sweetheart instead?"

Iris felt her knees go weak at the fairy's obvious flirting, and scraped enough of her brain cells to fire back a response.

"If you call me sweetheart, does that mean that I get to call you love?"

The fairy flushed slightly, cheeks turning blue, and Iris noticed the sparkling freckles on her cheeks. They looked like stars.

"If you wish, but you can also just call me Astara." 

Astara. It suited her, especially with her silver hair and star-filled eyes. 

Iris would've continued thinking very gay thoughts about the gorgeous fairy in front of her, but her bag was digging painfully into her back and her feet were sore.

She leant back slightly, and Astara immediately let go of her arm and stepped back. Iris was disappointed, then mentally kicked herself. She shouldn't be disappointed because a fairy had let her go, she should be running for the hills!

"So, sweetheart, what's a gorgeous girl like you doing so far in these woods?" Astara purred.

Iris felt her mouth go dry.

"I- I was drawing flowers, cataloging them, you know? And I uh, I got a bit turned around. My mum always told me to find a river or stream and I'd end up back home, but I must've gone the wrong way, because instead of the lake I'm used to I found um, I found this lake." Iris stuttered. Astara smiled slightly. "It's a nice lake."

"It truly is." Astara agreed. 

Iris took a moment to truly look at it, because she'd been too distracted by the fairy in front of her when she first stumbled upon the clearing, and had to hold in a gasp of wonder. It seemed to be full of stars. 

Iris wanted to look closer, she really did, she loved the stars almost as much as she loved flowers, but her instincts were screaming at her that the lake was not safe to go near, that she would die she would fall in she would float in the endless abyss that people wish to explore for the sole reason of _curiosity_.

Astara moved closer to her again, brushing her fingers against Iris' hand.

"Would you like to look closer?" She murmured, close to Iris' ear and so hopefully sweet that Iris nodded and let Astara grab her hand and lead her forward.

They stopped at the edge of the lake, hands intertwined, and Iris couldn’t hold in the gasp this time.

“It really is beautiful, don’t you think, Iris?” Astara asked. 

Iris nodded, struck dumb by the stars in front of her. 

"I call them sky-pools." Astara whispered, as if sharing a great secret. "I go swimming in this one, sometimes, when I miss home and feel far too lonely to even think of staying under the trees. It's peaceful, and it's the closest thing that I've found to going home."

She turned wistful eyes to the sky, and Iris felt her heart break a little. 

"I have this notebook, in my bag, and it has every plant I've ever come across, and its properties and a drawing of it and just everything about it really. I have a whole other notebook dedicated just to types of flowers and their meanings. And um, I have a patch of plants in the woods, where I just like to lay in the grass and the flowers and stare up at the sky. I love laying there of a nighttime, it's so beautiful. I even have a notebook about the different constellations and their stories. I'm- I know that my patch in the woods and my notebooks are a little different to your sky pool - mainly because mine aren't magic, and I'm not a fairy - but I guess that I'm just trying to say that I understand how you have a place that you go to when you're lonely? And um, yeah." She flushed after she stopped running her mouth. 

Iris didn't really have to give up that information, but fairies generally worked in trades, and Iris has lived in the woods and on the outskirts of towns long enough to know that fairies don't like being indebted to mortals, nor do they like having unequal exchanges of information.

She glanced shyly over at Astara, and saw that she was looking right back. The wonder that was written so clearly on her face made Iris flush further.

Astara moved closer.

"I appreciate you sharing that information with me. It seems that we both may be a bit lonely, not to cause any offence."

Iris didn't bristle like she would have if a mortal had said the dreaded words "no offence" to her. She could tell that Astara genuinely meant no offence, and was just pointing something out.

Iris chuckled softly. Slightly bitter, she replied, "Yeah. Guess we are."

Astara moved closer still, turning so that they were standing face to face. 

"Maybe, if you have the time, and you wish for company, you could come back and visit?"

She looked so sweet and sincere and _hopeful_, and Iris didn't even stop to think before she said, "If it suits me, I may return."

Astara smiled ruefully. "That was not a ploy to get you to agree to a deal, I assure you. However, your answer provides me with all the information that I need."

Iris smiled back, and leaned forwards slightly. Their foreheads touched, and Astara's hands shifted slightly where she was holding onto Iris' wrists. Iris looped her arms around Astara's neck and pulled her into a hug. 

"Thank you for showing me this place. It's beautiful."

Astara hugged her back.

They pulled away after a long (too short) moment, and Astara looked her in the eye. "It's not as beautiful as you, though, sweetheart." She winked. Iris blushed. Again.

"I uh- I have to go! The sun will be up soon and I don't like walking the paths in the daylight. The stars are better guides than the sun will ever be. And I also somehow managed to mess up my internal clock so I run on a nocturnal schedule, instead of a diurnal one, which, yippee. Anyway, it was lovely meeting you Astara. I'll see you again, l-love." Iris stuttered out.

She walked away from the fairy, with her freckles like stars and moon-bright hair and sky-pool full of melancholy and loneliness, feeling lighter and a bit happier and knowing that she'd be back the next night, and the night after that, again and again until she just stopped leaving. 

Iris had fallen under a fairy's enchantment, and she wasn't mad about that at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! that's done! Lovely! I literally cannot believe that it took me so long to write a fairy and a human being gay together!
> 
> If Iris and Astara are characters that y'all enjoy, I might bring them back again sometime, for another prompt! Maybe so,e backstory for why Astara can't go home, or why Iris lives in the woods, or maybe set after this! Who knows, I don't, but I make the rules (even though I feel like I depend on you guys' input a lot for these things lmao)
> 
> Anyway, leave a comment or kudos, and come kick my ass on Instagram at iownthecreativewrites, if you care. If you don't like my stuff, come kick my ass anyway! If you're apathetic towards me and my writing... Honestly just come kick my ass anyway, maybe I'll actually update on time haha...ha..ha (I'm so tired)


	8. (The world of the livin') so frail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8: Frail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I meant to get this out last night, but in my defence:  
I was running on fumes, and my iPad hasn't updated since like before 2017 so I can't do italics in my notes app and everything was in capslock. I would have to format it by _deleting every piece of dialogue that I wrote and re writing it_ and the thought of that on a glitchy iPad at 2 am made me want to cry. I gave it a crack, and then I just fell asleep. So, uh, yeh.  
That's. My defence. Do with it what you will.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this one!

He holds himself high, staring over a kingdom of lost souls. No one else understands how he is so proud of what he's done, but then, no one ever actually asked him. 

Except for one. The woman by his side once asked him why he was proud of a kingdom full of death and decay, far underground and away from everyone else who might bring in their ideas.

_Because_ he had replied. _None of the others actually understand the mortals that they rule. They like to think that they do, with their parties and revels, but they do not.  
They do not understand how mortal bodies can break with a single breath, and their minds can break with less than that._

_They do not understand that mortals have hearts made of glass and skin made of paper and can feel everything at once yet nothing at all, like a beautiful timeless paradox that grows up and old and dies with each and every one of them as they join me here._

_Not all of them are satisfied when they arrive, but they are eventually. They learn that others are important too and that memories and stories are more important and more valuable than status and gossip, especially in my kingdom._

She had just smiled, lips stained as red as juice from the pomegranate that he did not want her to eat (for he did not want her to eat it and then get tired of this place and him, and realise that it's so much better Up There, in the bright light where she belongs.) and spoken about how she thought it was touching.

_I wish the others thought of their kingdoms the way that you do _she had mused one stolen afternoon. _Maybe they - and their subjects - would be happier if they did. I enjoy it down here, much more than I enjoy Up There, simply because everyone is happier. They understand their part in this, and how they cannot really change their situation so they should make the best of it. And they know that they have a ruler that they can turn to, a ruler they can trust with their problems, whether it is the silliness of “he-said-she-said” or the frailty of their sense of self.  
I would enjoy being Up There more if everyone thought like you do. _

She smiled lazily at him and leaned over for a kiss that tasted as sweet as honeysuckle. 

_Though I would never enjoy it as much as I enjoy staying with you, my love. _

He had rolled his eyes fondly, but panicked later when he saw the cut up fruit from one of his trees. He found her, hunched on their bed, and she smiled at him.

Her lips and teeth were stained red from pomegranate juice.

He wept, for he knew that even though she wished to stay, her mother would drag her back.

_**Why would you do such a thing, you foolish girl**_ her mother raged through his front hall, scattering dirt and the dead alike, until all the spirits in the room had moved to an area where they did not feel as if they would be ripped apart. _**Why would you choose to stay here with a lonely hermit in a desolate cave system and miserable subjects when you can stay with us in the warmth and happiness Up Above.**_

She did not stay silent, no. She matched her mother's fury, her mother's wrath, though she did it in such a way that she was calm and yet raging at the same time. He fell in love with her even more, even as his heart broke. He knew that he could not keep her, even though she had arrived of her own free will and stayed of her own free will. He knew that none of the others would see it that way. 

Still, she answered her mother, cold fury a mask for the warm love she felt for him and his kingdom.

_Because I love him_ she answered, as if it was as simple as that. Maybe it was. _I love him, and the way that he runs his his kingdom. I love how he takes the time to speak to his subjects whenever they need him, and I love how he has realised just how frail they are, and he celebrates that. I am happy here, mother, happier than I ever was Up There, and I refuse to apologise if that offends you. I am happy here, and in love, and I want to stay. I do not want to leave. You **cannot** make me leave. _  
He stepped forwards, drawing her close.

_My love_ he whispered _I want nothing more than for you to stay forever. I am glad that you are happy here, and that you have chosen me to love for the rest of our long lives. However, they need you for the spring. They need you Up There, so that you can tend the seasons._

It broke his heart to send her away, but they reached an agreement. She would spend half of the year with him - in his quietly loud, happily dead kingdom - and the other half Up There - with parties and loud and no quiet, not quite, and no happiness for her. 

She was not happy with the agreement, and neither was he. They upheld it, though. 

They uphold the agreement through all of the years, all of the arguments and fights between mortals. Sometimes, mortals have "cold snaps" when she comes back for a few nights, in order to assist him during the many wars that those Up There wage just for fun. 

They never are fun for him, because he has to find new ways to comfort the fragile young minds and hearts and souls that have been entrusted to him, and he cannot help but feel rage at the fact that these young hearts and minds and souls will never get older, all because Up There got bored.

But, in the in-betweens, in the autumn and winter when his Queen comes home and he can breathe, he always stands even taller and even prouder. 

Because he is proud of his kingdom, and its rolling hills and forests of gems and precious metals, and evergreen flowers that his wife worked tirelessly to create, so that there may be a bit of colour for the dead to enjoy.

He is proud of what he has created, and proud of his people.

They are young compared to him, and so frail when they are old, and so so fragile. But they are strong, and he is proud of all of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this one might be my favourite, I love Greek mythology and I fucking love the myth of Hades and Persephone. In case you couldn't tell, I am definitely of the opinion that Hades is the misunderstood guy and Persephone 100% knew what she was doing and wanted to stay in the Underworld with her boyf. 
> 
> Feel free to yell at me about mythology on Instagram!! (iownthecreativewrites) Feel free to comment or drop a kudos!  
Have a lovely morning/afternoon/evening/night wherever you are my good sheilas, blokes and non-binary folks! See ya next time!  
(I am tired, why do I have to get so creative at ungodly hours of the night? I'm running on like four hours of sleep I can't believe myself)


	9. Such a pretty thing (my heart swings from the trees)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9: Swing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm??? I love the concept of Izuku being a god/deity??? And as you all have probably guessed by now, I like magic!!! So this happened!!! aaaaaa I really hope you guys like it!!! 
> 
> **Warnings for: implied child abuse ** (this is a fic from Shouto Todoroki's POV and Indievore is mentioned, as well as the "training" that Shouto was put through)
> 
> Um, characters are from Kouhei Horikoshi's My Hero Academia, which I really recommend lol, s4 of the anime just premiered and I'm screaminh because I have so much I have to catch up on.

There’s an old tree, in the middle of the woods behind Shouto's house, and there's a god living there, but no one other than him knows about it.

It’s quiet, it’s dark, and it’s peaceful. The branches are big, and strong, and can support a swing easily.

That’s where he likes to go.

He sneaks off whenever he can find the chance. They can’t exactly meet every night, because his father is incredibly strict about when he can leave the house. That’s all right though.

It was Izuku’s place before it was ShoutoandIzuku’s place.

It was an accident, when Shouto first found the big, old tree and the small woodland god. He'd been searching for plants (because Fuyumi was a witch and she needed certain plants, and she could always tell when Shouto's magic was hurting him, so she would send him to go find things for her. She always thanked him, even if he got the wrong things, and he _loved_ her for it) and had found a trail of flower petals. He followed them, away from the path, ignoring the warnings ringing in his ears ("Has anyone seen Touya?? He hasn't come back from the woods yet," "oh god, I found his footsteps. He... he left the path," "Shouto, if you go into the woods, don't leave the path, okay? I can't lose you too.") and following the sound of an enchanting voice instead. 

He'd found what looked like a boy, with green hair and green eyes and green freckles and funny markings on his chest that Shouto could see through his sheer clothing, so different from the baggy hoodie that Shouto was wearing. The boy looked otherworldly, and Shouto was enchanted but terrified. 

He was so nice, introducing himself as Izuku, the god of the woods, and taking him to sit underneath the tree for a while. He showed Shouto how to find the things Fuyumi needed and how to keep them fresh. He showed Shouto his swing, and how to get up really, _really_ high so that it seemed like he was flying. 

He even showed Shouto how to get home, and how to find his way back to the tree if he so wished.

And Shouto wished all right.

He went back the next day, and the next day, and the next day. He felt safe, he feels safe, and Izuku makes him feel safest. 

Izuku was a lot of things to Shouto, and still is. Izuku is his first and oldest friend. Izuku was the reason for Shouto's sexuality crisis all those years ago. Izuku is the reason why Shouto is still alive. Izuku was Shouto's first crush. Izuku is beautiful, stunning, and will never be his because Shouto is just a human Mage (no matter how badly his father wishes that his son took after his mother's fae genetics) and he can't compare to the others who live in the woods and love Izuku too. 

There's the water dryad Call-Me-Tsuyu and the tree nymph Ochako. 

There's the shifter Eijirou and his best friend Denki, an atmokinetic fairy. 

And there's the siren Hitoshi, who sings for Shouto sometimes when he's shaking and crying because his father hit Natsuo again or made Shouto use his magic until he puked and then made him use it even more. (Hitoshi's not so bad. He doesn't ask about the scar, or why he's there, he just teaches Shouto clapping games when he's younger, and how to weave daisy chains for Izuku and Fuyumi as he gets older)

And then, and then, there's the surly sun god Katsuki (who Izuku calls Kacchan and doesn't that hurt, because Izuku is _so special_ to Shouto but Shouto doesn't have a nickname and Katsuki calls Izuku "Deku" and means it like "useless" but he's got a nickname. And yes, Shouto knows that the two gods have known each other literally for ever, but he's known Izuku since he was six and scared and running from his father and some days, some days... he's unsure if he means as much to Izuku as Izuku does to him) and the strict moon god If-You-Won't-Call-Me-My-Name-Then-Call-Me-Iida-san.

And Shouto is just Shouto. He can't compare to any of the others, and he feels his heart clench a little when he sprints into the woods of an afternoon, still in his school uniform, and sees Ochako sprawled across Izuku or another flirting war between Hitoshi and Denki or the soft little smile that Izuku gets whenever he looks at Eijirou or Katsuki or Tsuyu or really _anyone_ other than Shouto. But he doesn't dwell on it too much, because he's mature enough to know that Izuku can make his own choices, and Shouto _knows_ that he'll be happy for Izuku no matter who he chooses.

(If he cries to Fuyumi sometimes because he just wants _so badly_ to be special to Izuku the way that everyone else is, then, well, that's his business. Nobody else's)

But Shouto's favourite times are the times when he sneaks out late at night, and no one else is in the clearing, other than Izuku. Iida is too much of a stickler for doing his job correctly to visit Izuku of a nighttime, and everyone else has a relatively normal sleep cycle, in that they sleep when it's dark and are awake when it's light. Shouto is always thankful that his father doesn't care what he does after ten o clock, as long as he's quiet. And, well, it's a bit hard to be loud in a room that you're not in.

On the nights that Shouto creeps into the woods, finding his way to the tree by memory, Izuku has set it up so nicely, with little fireflies everywhere underneath the branches and leaves, and Shouto's favourite blanket that Izuku made him, in case they both get cold.

On those nights, the swing is more than big enough to hold the two of them, and they sit next to each other, wrapped in the blanket, pushing off the ground gently with their feet, Izuku telling stories from his many years of being alive. 

Shouto loves him more than ever in those moments, and how Izuku has a way of making him feel safe, so he snuggles closer and listens harder and dreams of a world where he could feel like this all the time.

(He doesn't understand that the future is always fluctuating, and what is true for tomorrow might be completely different in an hour. Who knows what the future holds for him?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. So. That ending is uh. Something. Not sure if I like it, but. It's done? So please take it. 
> 
> This took me so long to write aaaaaaAAAAAAA I'm so sorry I got really stuck and then fell asleep like on time for two nights in a row and then finally caved and used a random word generator to give me something for inspiration for this one and it! Worked! So here we are, 12:55AM AEST because I have no self control. 
> 
> I'm. Not sure if anyone noticed the tag in the chaos Up Top but uhhhh I don't have a beta for this so all mistakes are mine and a result of not a lot of sleep and too much school. Please know that I do my best to do final edits when I format but my iPad glitches A Lot and so I don't always catch everything the first time around! (I definitely do after I post though. Watch me go through and clean stuff up after I'm done posting everything)
> 
> Anyway, that mess of a note is done (I actually write my author notes ahead of time, like before and as I write it down in Notes, so some stuff might be weird) and as usual, feel free to scream at me either in the comments or on Instagram (@iownthecreativewrites) and pls leave a kudos. I crave validation.
> 
> Anyway, x2, have a good one my stunning sheilas blokes and non binary folks!


	10. Tracing patterns on my back (exactly where you're going to stab)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10: Patterns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so it looks like my dumb baby ass is finally up to number ten, even though it's the twenty first, but hushhhhhhhh.
> 
> I keep posting and writing at ass o clock and taking forever to fricking find titles for these chapters but you know what? I don't really care, I'm just gonna sort it out eventually, yanno? Or I'll just pass out, let's see which one happens first!
> 
> **Trigger warnings for this chapter are a bit heavier and include: implied/referenced bullying, implied/referenced suicide-baiting, implied/referenced attempted murder, coarse language, and violence typical to the canon of My Hero Academia. Do not read if any of these make you uncomfortable. Your comfort is very important to me, I do not wish to accidentally make anyone feel uncomfortable or unsafe. Read safely, I love you all. **

Patterns are dangerous. Patterns mean you do the same thing all the time. Patterns mean you can be predicted. Patterns mean _weaknesses_. Why else do you think Izuku knows how to fight so many different ways? If he fights differently every time, then no one can find any weaknesses to use against him. It’s why he goes home a different way every day, and eats from a different place every day, and wears something different every day. 

He’s been doing it since he was little, and Kacchan used to chase him on the playground, and would just find him no matter where he hid, because he always hid in the same places. So Izuku stopped with patterns and being predictable, and he changed. Some days he was meek, some days apathetic, some days he would yell back, some days he would lash out first. Some days he put on a mask and was cold and scary and everyone left him alone. Some days he was bright and happy and tried to talk to _everyone_. They always talked back, because even though Kacchan was scary with the way he would yell at everyone for speaking to the Quirkless Deku, Izuku was scarier with his cold eyes and cold smile and teeth that looked slightly sharp and _very_ unnatural. 

Izuku didn’t have patterns anymore.

That made him dangerous.

But Kacchan? Kacchan had patterns. Patterns in who he bullied, how he reacted, how he fought. And Izuku had every single one of them down pat; he knew exactly how to counter them. 

And when Izuku saw Katsuki was on his way to the Top 5 Heroes, well. It was simply time to take him down a notch, and put a few things to the test, right? See if Kacchan’s patterns were still the same, and see if Izuku could _humiliate _him with them, the way that Katsuki had, all those years ago when being told to jump off the roof wasn’t good enough, no. Nor was being suffocated by slime. No, the only thing good enough for Katsuki was when Izuku was shoved off the roof, yelling all the way down, until it went eerily silent as he hit the ground. Everyone thought Izuku was dead, but no. Someone took him from the hospital, and _promised_ Izuku and his mother that it would be better if they stayed with him. It was, but not by much. Although, Izuku had realised that he could do so much more from the shadows than if he was a hero. So he sent out some poor motherfuckers drugged to the gills in order to set a trap. 

But oh, look, he’s getting distracted.

Can’t really get distracted when you’re about to face your childhood bully, now, can you?

Izuku smooths down his shirt and tugs his gloves higher up his wrists. The yelling from outside the alleyway is punctuated by explosions, and Izuku grins, eyes glinting dangerously behind carefully styled bangs. Appearance is the first thing everybody notices about you, isn’t it? Well, Izuku wants _everyone _to notice him. 

He steps out of the alley, humming a lullaby his mother used to sing when he was very small and couldn’t sleep. No one has noticed him yet, but that’s okay.

It gives him a bit more time to observe.

There’s only one low-life trouble-maker left, and Izuku watches with grim satisfaction as he gets slammed into the ground. That’s what happens if you think you can question his leadership. He may be Quirkless, but Izuku _is _still the leader of one of the largest villain organisations in Japan. He has groups within other groups, he knows everything that everyone says about him, and he’s a manipulative, insightful bastard to boot. Doesn’t hurt that he can kick people’s asses six ways to Sunday, but you’re still screwed no matter what. He’ll make you go and commit a crime in broad daylight, where there are lots of heroes around, and where you can’t escape. 

He can’t believe that people still think that he’s weak. Speaking of…

Slow claps echo around the city block, loud in the absence of explosions and yelling. 

“Well done, Kacchan, well done. I’m glad that I sent these ones out to you, you really showed them who’s the boss. It’s pretty fun beating on people who are so drugged that they don’t know their own name, isn’t it?”

Everything drops into silence, except for Katsuki’s laboured breaths.

“Who… the fuck… are you?” He pants out, turning to face Izuku.

“Don’t you recognise me, Kacchan?” He grins.

Katsuki’s brow furrows. “Don’t fucking… only stupid Deku called me that… and he’s fucking de-“ His head snaps up. 

Izuku grins and waves, bouncing on his toes.

“Hiya, Kacchan! Did you miss me?”

“Deku? What the fuck?! You’re meant to be- I thought you were fucking dead! I thought you fucking died!”

“D’you mean to say that you thought I’d died after you _pushed me off the school roof_?” Izuku smiles winningly, “Sorry to disappoint Kacchan, but if you’re gonna try and kill someone, push ‘em off a bigger building. I didn’t die, as you can see, but it was pretty damn close. It’s a good thing someone had the foresight to get me to a hospital. Of course, I was indebted to him, and he taught me everything he knew so that I could do his dirty work.”

“What about your mum, huh? Auntie would fucking sob if she saw you now.”

“_You don’t get to call her Auntie anymore_.” In a flash, Izuku is halfway across the sort-of arena that Katsuki has created, and he’s _angry_. “You lost that right the _second_ you started looking down on me. Besides,” he grins, mask change like the flick of a switch, “who do you think came up with this?” He gestures at his ensemble. “My mum is the most important person to me. Conniving bastard who took me knew I wouldn’t do anything without her, so he brought her along for the ride. She makes for pretty good cover, if I do say so myself.” He smirks as Katsuki whips around, looking for someone on the rooftops. 

Doesn’t he know any better? Never take your eyes off the prize.

Izuku steps forward, kicking up rocks and dust every time he moves.

“Now, do you know exactly who you were beating up, Kacchan?”

Katsuki looks at him, eyes narrowed.“I know you’re stalling, you bastard, so how about you let me ask the questions and I ask about shit that actually matters.” He growls.

“Okay Kacchan, whatever you want,” Izuku smiles condescendingly, just to piss Katsuki off. It works.

“Who’s the bastard you work for, huh? Where is he?”

“Work for? Oh Kacchan, who said _anything _about me working for someone?” Izuku smiles, crossing his arms. “I just said I did his dirty work.”

“Well, where is the bastard?”

“Oh. That’s pretty simple, actually. He asked for too much, so I cut my losses. He wasn’t very useful, anyway, only set on bringing down hero society and killing All Might. He didn’t see that the best thing to do would be to _make the heroes be better._” Katsuki flinched at the fire in Izuku’s eyes.

“So what?” He snarled. “You’re a murderer now? You here to kill me?”

“Oh Kacchan no!” Izuku laughed. “You’re not important enough for that! That’s too good of an ending for you, that’ll make people _miss _you, _mourn _you, and why would anyone do that? No, I’m here to teach you a lesson.”

“Oh?” Katsuki sneers. “And what lesson can a Quirkless Deku like you teach me, huh?”

“A lesson in patterns,” Izuku fires back, uncrossing his arms and gesturing wide “and how to be a decent fucking fighter.”

Katsuki yells, a wordless snarl of attempted intimidation, and lunges. 

Izuku _laughs_. 

Katsuki starts the way he always starts his fights, with a right hook slamming out of nowhere. Giggling, Izuku bats it away like it’s nothing and sidesteps the explosive left punch coming for his side. 

Katsuki’s eyes blow wide before they narrow in determination, and he truly begins fighting in earnest. 

Every second punch is backed by an explosion, and every punch that is a multiple of three he’ll lead with his left foot for ‘maximum power’. Izuku doesn’t know if Katsuki does it subconsciously or not, but it makes him grin all the same. 

He ducks and weaves through the punches, calling out barbs to keep Katsuki angry, because if he’s angry then Izuku can move faster than him, because Kacchan focused on his hands and arms when he was angry and Bakugou Katsuki is no different. And yes, Izuku knows that Kacchan and Katsuki are two different people, because Katsuki pushed him off a roof and Kacchan would hit him with explosive punches, but they're still _so similar_.

Izuku ducks and dodges and weaves around Katsuki's punches until the hero's strength is flagging and he's moving slightly sluggishly. 

"Whatsa matter Kacchan?" Izuku drawls, sidestepping a left feint and jumping a sweeping kick that comes when Katsuki has exhausted his other options. "Can't beat a 'Quirkless Deku' like me, eh? Would've thought that the _Number Six Hero_ would be able to beat the same Quirkless kid he's been beating up since he was _four_ pretty dang easily, right? But you didn't get the memo, did you, Kacchan?"

"What... fucking memo?" Katsuki growls, trying for intimidating but sounding like Simba at the beginning of The Lion King. "What are you talking about, you shitty nerd?"

"Oh, didn't they teach you at UA? Patterns! You're full of patterns, Kacchan, and anyone with two eyes and enough time can see every damn pattern that you have! Don't you think it's weird how a _worthless, Quirkless, nobody like me_ has been able to dodge _every single one of your hits_?" Izuku asks, bouncing slightly. Katsuki has moved out of reach of Izuku's hands, but not of his weapons. Mainly because no one knows about his weapons. It's rare that Izuku is in a fight where he's outmatched, but he's figured out that a good old bullet between the eyeballs is a stellar way to fix that sticky situation. 

Katsuki shows no sign of wanting to answer, or hell, even wanting to _know_ the answer. Izuku answers anyway, simply to be a little shit, and also because he really fucking needs an excuse for a dramatic exit because he has a business meeting in twenty minutes and Kenta-kun will yell at him if he's late again, even if he was knocking some sense into a hero. 

"It's because I have two eyes and a working brain, and I had a heck of a lot of time when we were younger, Katsuki, in order to pick your patterns apart. I could fight you with my eyes closed and win, so don't think for a _second_ that I'm losing against you. I'm simply picking my battles, and letting you win this one."

And with that, he turns and sprints for the alleyway, swinging into a well-hidden doorway halfway down it when he hears Katsuki follow. 

"Good luck convincing the authorities that one of Japan's most successful and philanthropic businessmen is the villain boss Machiavellian." Izuku mutters, shoving his way through the door. "They'll totally believe you."

Izuku smiles, teeth sharp-looking and just unsettling enough to give people the idea that he is _just this side_ of sane, and makes note of how apparently, some people don't learn, and their patterns always seem to remain the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! It's done! That's lit! I'm actually really excited that I get to share this one with you guys, I was debating whether or not I should write it for _ages_ and then I kinda just went "fuck it, I make the rules and I wanna write villain Deku so I'm gonna write villain Deku" and so now here we are!
> 
> Also uhhh I put a bit too much thought into Izuku's villain name but also maybe not at the same time??? Like I kinda wanted to use Machiavellian super badly but I'm worried I'll get told off for having the same name as Izuku's vigilante name in 'Bitch, I'm Incognito!' (Which you should totally read, by the way, it's awesome! Not gonna say too much, but it's got EraserMic, TodoDeku and ShinKami, as well as vigilante Izuku, Hitoshi and Mei, and Izuku is just a sassy flirty motherfucker with a vendetta against All Might and a very not-fun past. It's great. Go read it.) anyway that was off topic but um yeah I'm slightly worried I'll get the ao3 equivalent of a copyright lawsuit brought down on my dumb baby ass because my version of Izuku has the same name as someone else's Izuku. 
> 
> Main reason for why I want to call him Machiavellian: he's got a very "the ends justify the means" mentality and only really cares about one or two people other than himself. He manipulates and exploits and deceives without a care for how it affects others, only how it benefits him, and he's really sneaky and cunning too. He does have a moral code, which I guess doesn't make him 'fully Machiavellian' but his moral code is quite different from mainstream society's. His is more aligned with the idea of 'a bitch gotta do what a bitch gotta do' and he will do _anything_ to get what he wants. If I didn't end up calling him Machiavellian, another villain name would be the Japanese word Koiki (小粋) which basically translates to stylish, smart and tasteful, but also conceited and cheeky, which I thought fit him pretty well in how I attempted to portray him!
> 
> Anyway, for more backstory, feel free to comment down below asking about it! Who knows, maybe I'll do another prompt continuing in this verse! I certainly enjoyed it, that's for sure. I love exploring the idea of such a fundamentally _good_ character doing things that would make society consider him a villain, even though he is literally doing good things just in a not super great way. The ends justify the means, in his mind, and I think that makes him in that morally grey area. He doesn't kill for shits and giggles, he does it to make a point, but he will not fucking hesitate once his mind is made up.
> 
> Anyway, apologies for the _MAJOR_ rant there, I love dissecting the reasons behind names hahaha!
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment, kudos or come scream at me on Instagram (@iownthecreativewrites)! Until next time, have a good one my favourite sheilas blokes and non binary folks, peace out!


	11. Walks in the snow (with those who betray)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11: Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh warnings for blood I guess? And mentioned character death.

Soft and  
Bright and  
Cold cold cold,  
They wander together,  
Pressed close,  
Whispering secrets and sharing smiles.

One is not short  
The other not tall  
But they match each other perfectly.

Their power is unmatched,  
And everyone knows it,   
And a great many people feel threatened,  
When they witness the prince and his love fight together.

The battles are over  
Very very quickly  
Whenever they step out together.

Apart, they are both strong,  
But together,  
They could rule the world.

No one likes the thought  
Of two young ones  
Being stronger than them  
And ruling over them  
And so they plot.

In secret,  
They plot  
And they plan  
And they wait for the perfect day  
To cover their tracks.

And today might be that day  
And it might not.   
No one can really tell  
When it will happen.

Because today would be perfect  
It’s cold  
And bright  
And there’s snow falling all around  
And it would cover their tracks perfectly. 

But they stop  
And think for a moment  
And they can see,  
So clearly,  
What will happen.

The _red_ that will stain the ground  
And his clothes  
And the tears that will stream  
And the anger   
And the hatred  
And they can see that they will be caught  
No matter how fast they run.

So they decide to leave it for another day,  
And turn to leave,  
But there’s a _crack_  
And a _gasp_  
And a _wail_  
And there is redred_red_ all over the snow  
And all over the prince’s clothes  
And maybe they missed  
Because the prince was the target  
But maybe they knew how to make it hurt worse.

Whatever it is,  
They all run. 

One, two, three, fourfivesixseven of them  
Sprinting away  
From the tears  
And the red-stained white  
And the snow covers their tracks,  
But it won’t save their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Does that count as poetry? I have no clue. I don't know how much I like this one, either, but that's fine because if I send it out to the internet I can get feedback on how to make it better, right?
> 
> Anyway! I know I keep apologising for getting these out so late and I keep making excuses, but it's like week 3 of the school term and I already have assignments, plus I have had like no motivation to write recently! But, it's the weekend! So maybe now I can write more and catch up!
> 
> As always, have a day my good sheilas blokes and non-binary folks!


	12. Guard your freedom (the way a dragon would its treasure)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12: Dragon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I know that I haven’t been updating, I literally lost all steam in regards to this, I’m gomen. However I'm back now and hopefully I'm on the motivation train for a bit longer this time! I’m going to complete all of these prompts even if it kills me so uhhhh wish me luck!
> 
> <strike>Uhh, title is from Bruno Mars' _Treasure_ because it has been stuck in my head all day</strike>

There are stories about the caves. That you can find gold and silver and all sorts of glory. But they are exactly that. Just stories. 

And the stories always come with a warning. Of what, no one knows. All they know is that anyone looking for the treasure in the caves never returns. 

That doesn’t deter the princess, though. No, it spurs her on. Because if everyone thinks she’s dead, then nobody can find her and no one, _no one_, can make her do things she doesn’t want to do. 

She has gold, and silver, and her crown and her necklace and anything that she could get her hands on.

She doesn’t know what waits in the caves, but she’s been a diplomat since she was young, and she knows that if you want freedom, or safety, or shelter, or anything like that, then you need to bargain. And you need to bargain hard, especially if your life and your freedom depends on it.

So she packed a bag full of everything valuable that she owned, anything that was special to her, some clothes and some food, and she made her way to the caves. 

She’s shaking from fear and exhaustion, and is so so so terrified that she’s about to be killed.

“Hello?” she calls. “Is there anybody there? I have something that I think you might like.”

Nobody answers.

She creeps into the entrance, holding her breath, lightening her steps with all of the tricks she’s learnt over the years.

Her footsteps are silent, but it’s hard to be silent when you can’t see where you’re going. She kicks a rock by accident, and it echoes loudly in the silence.

She freezes straight away, knowing that if she keeps moving, she could be putting herself in further danger. 

A grumble echoes through the cave, accompanied by a puff of hot air. 

_Oh. So that’s what’s in the caves. A dragon._

She doesn’t know a lot about dragons, but she knows enough. She knows that you don’t take their treasure, she knows that they can understand you, she knows that some of them can shift form to human but they don’t. She knows that they work like fairies, in which you have to trade and bargain and can’t give up everything to them otherwise they’ll take you and won’t let you leave.

She knows this about dragons, she knows that going in here will be about as dangerous as staying out of the cave. But when you’re running for your life, you take the lesser evil, the one that will let you live for a little bit longer.

So she enters the cave, and bargains for her life with the gold and the jewels that she stole from her father.

And if, months later, a new rogue appears on the scene, with short hair and a name where no one can tell if they are male or female and a dragon, with a call for the King’s head and a claim to the throne, well, no one mentions the young, scared princess who died in that cave when she bargained for freedom with a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Dragons, princesses, bargains, rogues! All things that I love! <strike>And I get that it might not seem like it fulfils “treasure” although it kind of fills the prompt in the way of like… They treasure their freedom and it kind of reflects in the way that they bargain with physical treasure to get the safety and freedom that they want. But also, I mean, I'm the author, I can do what I want so :D</strike>
> 
> Anyway, you all know the drill! If you like my bullshit, drop a comment or a kudos! If you don’t like my bullshit, drop a comment! Tell me how to improve! Comments and kudos are my lifeblood (oh my god I sound so needy I apologise). Come scream at me on Instagram because I don’t have a Twitter or a Tumblr! I’m @iownthecreativewrites on Instagram, just like I am here, and honestly I really need to post the stuff that I have saved. (I still haven't figured out how to add a hyperlink, if anyone would like to teach me how to do that I am all ears, I have no idea what I'm doing in regards to html, I had an _assignment_ that required coding _entirely in html_, I have done ICT for thREE YEARS-)
> 
> Anyway, as always, have a wonderful morning afternoon or evening my lovely sheilas blokes and nonbinary folks! I’m gonna go collapse into a pile of assignments and stress!
> 
> ** Edit 25/01/2020: hi uh I just realised when going back through all my stuff that I posted this as fulfilling the 'treasure' prompt (which is actually the day 21 prompt, not the day 12 prompt) and so I changed that. pls excuse me, im v dumb and v small and really need to check my shit and avoid posting really early in the morning hahahahaha (cries in dumb)**   
<strike>also why did no one tell me I did that hhhhhhhhhhHHHHHH I feel so dumb ahaha</strike>


	13. Pray that you will never know (the hell where youth and laughter go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13: Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to “50 ways to say goodbye” by Train on repeat while writing this, and I must say, I have literally no regrets in adding that song to my “villain songs” playlist. Other absolute bops on there include “Light Em Up” by Fall Out Boy, “Starring Role” by Marina and The Diamonds, “Killer” by The Ready Set, “Popular Song” by MIKA & Ariana Grande, and “Fairy Bread” by Peppermint Ollie, as well as many more. I recommend you listen to all of the songs listed here, and if you want more feel free to hit me up in the comments or on my Instagram!
> 
> Anyway, onto the warnings: **Mentioned child abuse, mentioned burning people alive, warning for mentions of Todoroki Enji**
> 
> Title is from a poem about the ANZAC legend I heard in Social Science one day, that line really stuck with me. The title is "Suicide in the Trenches." I thought that line was kind of fitting for Dabi.

When ash is found scattered on the ground, everyone knows to stay away. 

Ash on the ground means that Dabi is looking for a fight, and only someone incredibly dumb would challenge him. He’s killed far too many people – hero or villain, who the fuck cares – for your regular old street fighter to be stupid enough to think that they can take him, but he still has three or four dumb ones every month or so, coming from different prefectures or coming out of the woodwork for some good ol’ revenge. 

Dabi probably has so many members of just one family aiming to kill him, and that sends a thrill through him that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with adrenaline, with the rush that he gets as he smells burning flesh, feels it cracking and blistering under his skin, crumbling into ash if he holds a flame to them long enough.

He dusts off his palms on his pants, leaving smears of charcoal grey on black denim. 

Grimacing at the taste of ash in his mouth, Dabi wanders away from the hero’s place of death. 

He knows that the authorities will be here soon enough, although he’ll be long gone.

No one can catch him, and no one intimidates him. 

(_But what about-_ a tiny part of his mind whispers.  
_No _he growls back _Endeavour does **not **intimidate me._)

He doesn’t flinch when he hears the scream of someone discovering a body, nor does he flinch when he hears sirens wailing on and on and on into the night, red and blue lights flashing as they make their way to another charred body, piles of ash surrounding it. 

It’s too bad, really, because that hero maybe had potential, if they weren’t dumb enough to try and cross Dabi when he was taking a trip down memory lane. 

But then again, he’s not in his usual wandering spot tonight. He’s near the house where it all began – the house where his siblings are still trapped, forced to live with a shitty father and his shitty rules and his even shittier “training.”

Dabi takes a deep breath in, exhaling a cloud of smoke – a by-product of the flames burning in his lungs, keeping him warm and his temperature regulated on a cooler night like this. 

As he walks closer, he can see the doors, the windows, the lights still on in the loungeroom. He doesn’t dare go closer, because then the temptation to just light it all up will be even stronger and harder to resist. 

He may hate Endeavour, but his siblings are in there, and they haven’t done anything wrong. Don’t tell the bossman, but he’s actually very proud of Shouto. He’ll be a great hero one day. 

He can still remember which room is Shouto’s, and he grits his teeth in barely restrained anger as he watches the light turn on. 

Dabi can smell the smoke and feel the flames of that damn training room, a whooshing in his ears as he remembers just how loud fire can be. Especially when it’s not your own. 

He shoves his hands into his pockets in an attempt to not hurl ball after ball of fire at the house. He may be a murderer, but he’s not going to use fire to hurt his family, especially when fire has already fucked all of them up for years. 

Of course, if it is a competition, he’s not sure if he wins or if Shouto does. One became a villain and used his fire to literally turn people to ash, and the other is going to be a hero and doesn’t use his fire at all. 

Fire has fucked them up far too much, but at least his baby brother is working through it with that green kid who breaks his bones all the time. 

(_That could be you_ that same part of his mind whispers _if you acknowledged that you are scared of Endeavour and your own fire_  
_Shut **up **_he growls _you don’t know what you’re talking about._  
Even though it does, because ignorance may be bliss, but denial is bittersweet)

He’s smoking now, and it’s curling off of him in ringlets as he does his best to control the urges to burn everything to ashes. 

He’s wanted to kill Endeavour for a long time, even before he learned just how bad Shouto was fucked up, and he can’t wait for his chance. 

They may have fire in common, but Touya disowned Enji as a father the day Dabi swore to bring Endeavour down. 

They may have DNA in common, but the way that they wield their fire is so different. Yes, they both hurt people with their flames, but at least Dabi takes shit off of the heroes’ hands, right? Endeavour – no, _Enji_ – just burns everything down and leaves the bitter taste of ash in your mouth. 

Dabi realises that seeing where his family lives is not an effective way to clear his head, and feels even more frustrated than he did when he left the bar. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best idea, but at least he has an excuse to burn some more shit. Nobody crosses Dabi when he’s mad. 

(_Just like how no one crosses your father_ his mind whispers, digging up memories of ash scattered across the floor and burns littering arms and no one, no one, coming to save him.)

He doesn’t argue this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I've decided that I'm gonna stop apologising for updating late, because that probably gets really annoying, and instead just say thank you!! For reading!! I've got like over 300 hits on this and like, that may not seem like a lot to some people but it is for me??? Like, before I started writing this, I think the most I got was 11 hits on a poetry piece that I wrote. And also wow, I have Seven Whole Kudos??? That's a really Big Deal for me, it's literally the most kudos I've gotten before and it just makes me super happy every time I see that??? Thank you guys so much for taking the time to show me (a dumb tired bisexual student) some lovin??? I love all of you guys!!!
> 
> (Holy shit this is so sappy but I mean, it's all true. So. Deal w it)
> 
> Um, my sincere apologies for any typos tho??? And if this seems choppy??? Idk man, I wrote this over a few days and I'm editing at like midnight, I might have missed something. Let me know if I did, k?
> 
> Like I said up above, feel free to idk, message me on Instagram (@iownthecreativewrites) if you wanna know what other songs I have in my Villain Playlist. Or drop a comment if you wanna yell about something you liked or disliked, I promise that I'll do my best to reply in an appropriate amount of time!!! Or let me know about other songs that you think would be good for a villain playlist!!! (I don't currently have Spotify but I'm honestly considering getting it for the sole reason of I Can Share Playlists) (even though I'm p sure I can also do that on Apple Music now as well)
> 
> And as always, have a wonderful time of it my gorgeous sheilas blokes and nonbinary folks, I'll see you in the next chapter!!!


	14. Where the garden grows (I dare not go)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14: Overgrown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um ok so hi?? It's been a while, hasn't it!
> 
> I'm really sorry it took me so long to update <strike>(not that anyone cares lmao)</strike>
> 
> No warnings for this chapter, the title has been slightly changed from that Down by the Bay song that I'm pretty sure a bunch of people learn in primary school (if not, I'm pretty sure you can find it online???)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy reading, feel free to leave a comment, there's a longer explanation for my disappearance in the end notes. <3

Tangled lines add a story, add flair, to something as boring, as mundane, as a building.

Twisting vines add a sense of mystery, of wonder, of “we shouldn’t be here,” to something as boring, as mundane, as a home.

But if you see a garden, all overgrown, you don’t dare to look, or stray from the path, or even think about it too long.

Because buildings and homes that are covered in vines and lines add story and character whereas gardens that have no direction and are covered in vines and tangled lines are terrifying.

They fill you with a sense of unease, a sense of “we should be careful or we may not appear again,” as opposed to a sense of adventure, a sense of “this will be a great story one day.”

When you see an overgrown garden, you know that you won’t be around to tell that great story one day.

The trees lean out at you, loom over you, dredge up memories of people bigger than you that you do not think are yours.

The path meanders, confuses you, runs away from you. One moment you are walking on it, the next there’s a tree and the path is three metres to the left. You make your way back to it, slowly, as if it is a wild animal that will spook.

_Don’t be silly_ you tell yourself _the path won’t run away._

Except you looked away for one second, and now you can’t find it.

An eerie song echoes through the garden – is it even a garden anymore, with how big it is, how twisted it is, how suffocating it is? – and beckons you closer.

**Follow me** it says **I can take you home**

Your feet move without permission. You follow the voice. 

You forget the stories, the tales of how old, overgrown gardens have voices and songs and guide unknowing travellers into their embrace. 

You forget those who never return from wandering in an old garden and their loved ones who beg and plead to be allowed in for their bodies, yet are denied access.

You forget the rules that every child has been taught since they were old enough to feel the tug of a voice, and you instead let it reel you in closer.

The branches of trees interlock, a puzzle that can never – will never – be solved. 

There is no sky here, no sun, no warmth, only damp and cold dirt. You shiver as you are reminded of how one day, you will be returned to that damp and cold dirt.

You pray that it is not soon.

The voice alleviates your fears as soon as they arrive, however, and removes your discomfort. You feel safe and warm.

You do not remember the stories of people who fell for a voice and were driven mad looking for it.

Instead, you remember a melody twining through your ears, sending you to sleep. The voice sounds just like the melody, but slightly off. Perhaps it is being sung in a minor key?

You shrug the thought away. It does not matter about the differences. It only matters that you feel safe. And sleepy.

A wave of exhaustion rushes over you, leaving you staggering in the aftermath of the wave break. Your legs can barely hold you and so you sit, back leaning against a tree.

Perhaps it will not be so bad if you just closed your eyes, just for a moment…

You do not return. 

Your loved ones bargain with the garden, make offerings, anything to find you, have you released back to them.

Your name is forgotten. So is your life - your favourite food, favourite songs, favourite clothes. Your ambitions for after high school.

Your parents wish bitterly that you had decided to explore an abandoned building instead.

Your siblings are pitied, known only as those who lost a loved one to the garden.

Your friends mourn you in the way only friends can.

You become another cautionary tale, another legend to scare children into staying away from overgrown gardens. Don’t they realise that scare tactics do not work?

In the garden, you slumber peacefully on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Christ okay if any of you have been actually following this since the early days and y’all thought it took me a long time to post day 7, then this was an absolute menace for me to write. I wrote like an absolute goddamn _monster_ of a thing that had too much exposition and literally made no sense, even to me, so I scrapped it and rewrote it like three times before I turned to my usual mantra: when in doubt, write poetry. Except I decided to change it into a more abstract prose style that I really like but I'm unsure if I'll be able to recreate so that's something new, I guess!  
So that’s what I’ve managed to come up with and good news! I have the next two days written already because I had better ideas for those ones and was more, y’know, interested in them than this one because it was really hard for me to write for some reason so yea thanks for sticking with my dumb baby ass if you have and like, welcome to anyone new, I hope you enjoy your stay in hell, I swear that I’m doing my best to update, and I’m trying my hardest to have this done by the end of December (we all know that’s not gonna happen lmao).  
Anyways, as always, have a good one my wonderful sheilas blokes and nonbinary folks, make sure you drink enough water!!


	15. (They become a part of you) Legends never die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 15: Legend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, here's the second one that I said I already had written!
> 
> I've based this (read: pulled a lot of things from) on the myth of Medusa (however, some of my information may be incorrect, so please feel free to educate me, I am fascinated by religion and the stories that are told through it, although don't know where to find any reliable sources. If you could point me in the direction of some, I would owe you a favour!)
> 
> With the basis of this being in Medusa's tale, I do have some warnings.  
The following warnings apply to this chapter: **implied/referenced rape; slut-shaming; victim-blaming; death**. If you find any of those topics triggering, **please tread carefully**
> 
> Title of the chapter is from the song 'Legends Never Die' from League of Legends.  
Enjoy the chapter!

She will be a legend, one day. A warning, for women everywhere. She will be passed from hand to page, page to mouth, mouth to ears and back again, and the story will become convoluted. 

Her blessing will become a curse, her warning will become a challenge, and even at rest she will get no peace.

They will tell how Athena became jealous of her “desecrating” the goddess’ temple, but will fail to mention how she cried and screamed and begged for mercy and prayed for her goddess to save her.

They will tell how Athena cursed her to kill everyone she looked at, but fail to mention how it was a blessing for someone who never wanted the attention of men or gods anyway.

They will tell how those who find and slay her are heroes, those who find her and freeze by her power are martyrs, when in fact they are just _men_, men who are overconfident and don’t know the difference between someone running to protect herself and someone running because she’s guilty.

They will tell her tale as a warning – don’t sleep with someone outside of marriage, stay a virgin, don’t go there, don’t do that, you don’t want to end up a gorgon, do you? – and use her name as an insult, describe women who shut others down because “I said no, I don’t want to” as a stone-cold bitch, and forget all about her tale.

For she was not – is not – a monster. She was – is – a scared, abused woman who is seeking shelter and begged for mercy from the only deity she believed in.

Her tale of triumph and sadness has been woven into a warning of wickedness and fear, and she is a legend, but not in the way that she deserves.

They no longer tell her story the way they should, but she is always with us.

She guides us, protects us, gives us the strength to say “no” and turn people to stone with a look.

She is a legend, and her story is finally changing back into what its roots originally were.

Her name is Medusa, and she will be remembered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hopefully you'll stick around for my next chapter! (I'm not really sure what to say lmao, I just like talking to you guys, even though no one responds :'[)
> 
> Like I said in the beginning notes, if anyone has any good recommendations where I can read up on greek mythology, roman mythology, or mythology from any religion really, hit me up! feel free to tell me here in the comments, or talk to me on instagram (@iownthecreativewrites) I'm literally never active there but I feel like I should be haha.
> 
> as always, please feel free to comment or kudos, recommend me to your friends, and don't forget to get a reasonable amount of sleep! have a good one sheilas blokes and non-binary folks, I'll see you in the next chapter!


	16. Sleep on me (just breathe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16: Wild

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really think there are warnings needed for this one? It's set ambiguously in the bnha timeline (oh yes I'm back on my fandom bullshit) and I do make references to insomnia relating to Shinsou and Midoriya, as well as the anxiety and PTSD that Midoriya undoubtedly has from, well, _everything_, but that's only mentioned in passing. Uh, also a warning for social and mental exhaustion?? I guess?? I haven't spoken to a large number of people recently but writing an introvert with social exhaustion made _me_ feel even more socially exhausted, so just like... keep that in mind
> 
> This is gonna be shindeku because my multi shipper ass says so, but it's pre-relationship so there's just a lot of internally freaking out.
> 
> Title is from 'Guillotine' by Jon Bellion, featuring Travis Mendes. I know the lyrics don't go exactly like that, but it fits better this way, in my opinion.

Hitoshi is sure of very few things in his life. He’s never sure if he’s going to go home and find that yet another foster home has decided that he’s more trouble than he’s worth. He’s not sure if he’s actually good enough to get into the hero course. 

Some days, he’s not even sure if he’s actually a good person.

Hitoshi is even less sure when it comes to any judgements he may have about someone. However, he is absolutely certain about these four judgements of Midoriya Izuku.

  1. His hair is completely wild, and will absolutely be soft to touch
  2. He has insomnia caused by anxiety and minor PTSD, and so he likes to frequent the same 24 hour cat café that Hitoshi goes to
  3. He is so incredibly smart, and it’s actually adorable how his muttering is basically his brain going “hey, this is a lot of information, let’s chat about it!” And it’s kind of sad how he always apologises for it
  4. His freckles are small and adorable, and look like stars on his cheeks and wow Hitoshi got real sappy real fast. 

All four of these judgements add up to one large judgement that Hitoshi has made about himself, and that judgment is this:  


    He is completely smitten for Midoriya Izuku.

It’s not something he can help, not by a long shot, and if anyone finds out how long he spent freaking out over having a crush on that one hero course boy who fucked himself up fighting Endeavour’s kid, then he’s gonna have to kill them.  
Still doesn’t change the fact that Hitoshi’s got a big gay crush on Midoriya Izuku.

He’s not sure when it started, or how. Who knows, it might have been at the Sports Festival. Or maybe every time the kid said hi to him in the halls. Or maybe that one time at the cat café when Hitoshi walked in on the verge of a panic attack because he screwed up back at the house and Midoriya just held him, told him to breathe, told him about every time someone in his class messed up in training and failed spectacularly. Hitoshi couldn’t stop laughing by the time he could breathe again, and when he looked up at Midoriya with a ‘sorry’ on his lips, he got a fond glare and a ‘you have nothing to be sorry for’ and eyes that were so soft he felt himself melt. 

Hitoshi stayed close for the rest of the night, and Midoriya didn’t seem to mind.

Hitoshi just wishes Midoriya felt comfortable being that open around him.

Anyone can see that the kid is working himself into the ground, and it’s going to add up to one amazing meltdown – likely in the middle of class – that Hitoshi wishes he could be there for. Not to comfort Midoriya or anything, no of course not, just to say ‘I told you so’ alright? (Okay so maybe a little bit of comforting would be involved but hey, Hitoshi has to repay the guy somehow, right?)

The only reason Hitoshi is thinking about any of this, of course, is because it is exactly one sixteen on a Friday morning, and one Midoriya Izuku has just walked in, ordered a coffee, thrown down two binders of school work, and slumped onto Hitoshi’s lap.

The large ginger tabby laying on their usual table startles, then jumps down and saunters away, tail waving in reprimand.

“Hello to you too,” Hitoshi says, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice and failing. This has become quite a common occurrence recently. (The coming in and scaring cats thing, not the whole – laying-on-Hitoshi thing. That’s entirely new, and Hitoshi isn’t really sure what to do.)

Midoriya mumbles something and shifts his head in Hitoshi’s lap, nuzzling into his stomach.

Hitoshi freezes, trying to figure out what to say, considering his dumb gay brain decided to stop working, Windows shut-down noise and all. 

“Uh, what’s going on dude? You seem exhausted,” he ventures.

“Fucking duh I’m exhausted,” Midoriya replies, grumbling slightly. “Why the fuck do we have to have so much homework? I already train like twelve hours a day, plus go to school, why can’t the amount of homework I get fucking reflect that?”

And ooookay Midoriya is swearing, Hitoshi has to be really careful not to fuck this up. Midoriya only swears when he’s so tired that tears seem like an appropriate reaction to literally everything. And if there’s one thing Hitoshi hates worse than Midoriya being mad at him, it’s Midoriya crying.

“Yeah, the amount of homework is pretty terrible. I can help you out if you need it though, dude, you know that right?” Hitoshi replies, unsure of what to say.

“Yeah I know,” Midoriya grumbles. “Can I just like, lay here for a bit though? I’m so goddamn tired and I’m socially exhausted as well as physically and mentally. Even just ordering coffee was too much, I nearly cried.”

Hitoshi winces in sympathy. “I can move, if you want,” he offers, “I don’t mind, if it would make you more comfortable.” He ignores the part of his mind that whispers about how much he actually does mind having to move and leave the warmth of Midoriya laying on him.

To his surprise, Midoriya winds an arm around his waist. “No,” he whispers, “stay. You… you don’t count as people to me.”  
An unexpected warmth flows through Hitoshi, tinged slightly by surprise. Oh. He doesn’t count as people to Midoriya? The warmth settles in his heart, right next to the time that Midoriya held him while he had a panic attack.

“Well, if I don’t count as people to you, will you start calling me Hitoshi?” He teases, not entirely sure if he’ll get an answer.

“Fine,” Midoriya mumbles from where his face is still pressed to Hitoshi’s stomach, “but only if you call me Izuku.”

Hitoshi flushes, staring down at Midori- Izuku in awe.

“You don’t count as people to me either, Izuku,” Hitoshi whispers. Izuku hums happily and shifts slightly. 

“Wake me up when my coffee’s here,” he demands, making himself comfortable. 

“Alright Sir Bossyboots, will do,” Hitoshi says. As Izuku settles down again, Hitoshi finds one of his hands hovering over Izuku’s wild green hair. No clue how that happened. (His dumb gay brain moved on autopilot because it has always wanted to touch Izuku’s hair and now he has a chance is how it happened)

Remembering how nice it always felt whenever one of the older kids at his homes played with his hair, Hitoshi gently brings his hand down and starts running it through Izuku’s hair.

Izuku melts, letting out a soft sigh and then evening his breathing until he falls asleep.

Hitoshi is internally panicking because holy shit his hair is so much softer than you’d think.

At that moment, the waitress brings over Izuku’s coffee. She smiles when she sees him asleep in Hitoshi’s lap and places it gently on the table.

Hitoshi looks at the receipt and sees that the coffee is one they both like, and he remembers the conversation they had a few weeks ago, wherein they basically gave each other permission to drink each others’ coffee if they fall asleep.

Without thinking, his fingers scrape lightly across Izuku’s scalp. He shifts in his sleep, turning slightly so that Hitoshi can see his face. Izuku looks so much more relaxed, so much closer to his age when he is asleep.

Hitoshi feels his face flush again and his heart skips a beat when Izuku’s arm tightens around his waist.

Hitoshi is going to have to revise his lists.

He is absolutely certain of five things about one Midoriya Izuku.

  1. His hair is completely wild, and is so much softer than you’d think
  2. He has insomnia caused by anxiety and minor PTSD, and so he likes to frequent the same 24 hour cat café that Hitoshi goes to
  3. He is so incredibly smart
  4. His freckles are small and adorable, and look like stars on his cheeks 
  5. When he is tired, he is like a cat and will sleep on the nearest person

And Hitoshi knows, without a doubt, this one thing about himself.  


    He is absolutely fucked when it comes to Midoriya Izuku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of my personal headcanons can be seen in this, such as foster kid!Hitoshi, Izuku as an introvert (but not just any introvert. He's That Introvert, y'know the one where they basically can pass successfully for an extrovert or at the very least an ambivert, and they go for _days_ in what I refer to as 'on' mode until they finally crash because they've literally emptied their social battery to the point where it's going to explode??? maybe that's just me. I've definitely based this introverted Izuku off of my introvert tendencies, however, especially the thing that certain friends have done to them where I flop onto them and inform them that they are 'not people'. That was a large ramble, I apologise lmao) and the fact that the two obviously live close enough together that they frequent the same cat café at around the same hours. I hope you guys don't mind these headcanons, because I actually like them. anyway.
> 
> If you can't tell, my idea of telling my crush I like them is being gay and dumb by throwing myself on my their lap and then proclaiming that they are not people to me. ergo, my fave boys will reflect that
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed, you can always contact me on instagram or in the comments, feel free to drop a kudos, and make sure you recharge your social battery! Have a wonderful day my favourite sheilas blokes and non binary folks!


	17. Christmas tree (o Christmas tree)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 17: Ornament

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha hi yeah here's another one, it may be four days after Christmas but I am still posting a Christmas themed one because I can and so I shall.
> 
> Warnings for swearing, that's it really. 
> 
> V contemplative, it's kinda personal too, it's basically about my family (mainly me and my sisters).
> 
> Title is from a Christmas carol, not very creative I know, but it is nearly midnight and I am _too tired_ to be overly creative and clever right now

Christmas trees and the way you decorate them can tell a story about their owners.

My Christmas tree tells the story of three sisters.

Three ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ ornaments – 2004, 2006, and 2008 (even though the last one was born in 2007).

Three faeries of three different colours – pink, purple and green (with pink a lot more broken than the rest).

Handmade decorations from my prep class (in uniform with reindeer antlers and a Rudolph nose, a triangle of Paddlepop sticks decorated with bells and glitter glue), 2006’s year 4 class (in uniform with a black eye and nasty grazes stained with Betadine from where she won a fight with a footpath, a blue and white snowflake with silver accents), 2007’s year 5 class (big proud smile for the camera, no dressing up or injuries, a red bauble with [REDACTED], Mrs G’s Year 5 class, 20XX inscribed on the bottom).

Generic red and green and gold baubles (_we** do** have a theme _was uttered at least three times as we set it up).

A golden string of pearls that I get yelled at for ‘getting tangled’ (_I’m_ the one untangling them every year, I know how to play with them and not get them tangled up again).

A ceramic bed with five heads and our names across each head, [REDACTED] Family written across the bottom (we fight about who gets to put it up most years. 2006 wins, mainly because she has no dignity left and will not hesitate to chuck a tantrum).

A yellow taxi from when we spent Christmas in New York (it was fucking freezing. We’re used to 40 degree weather, not this -4 degrees bullshit. How do Americans survive?).

Gold snowflakes that everyone races to put up first (I used to sort them into even piles for everyone, but I don’t anymore. They’ll just fight anyway, what’s the point?).

A well-loved Angel at the top of the tree (used to be that dad would lift us up so we could put her on. We’re all too big now, so we rotate. This year was mum’s favourite child, the dog).

Christmas trees and their ornaments tell stories, hold memories. Our old cracked baubles have seen us grow up, my pink faery had to deal with me playing none too gently with her, the Pom-Pom Santa doesn’t hang anymore because he is just too soft to not play with.

If you walked into my house, you would see a Christmas tree, telling the story of three sisters to anyone who would care to listen, showing off its ornaments with pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao yes I know it’s after Christmas but I’m in a Christmassy mood still, and I started writing this like, just after we set up our tree so there. 
> 
> Anyway I wanted to try the contemplative thing, this one I would actually seriously like feedback on a little, please? I just kinda want to know if it was too personal, if you guys liked it, if you hated it, how you think I could improve, if the [REDACTED] thing was annoying and I should change it. This was literally just a brain dump, I didn’t fully think about what I was saying I just kinda put it down because yeah, and you guys got another chapter! 
> 
> So uh, as usual, drop a comment, drop a kudos, get in contact, etc. don’t fight with your siblings too much (if you have any) and have a good day my wonderful sheilas blokes and nonbinary folks!


	18. Erase Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 18: Misfit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey gays I'm back in the year 2020 and still continuing this!! it took me a while bc I was trying something vvv new w this and I hope you enjoy lmao

We are the whisper in the hearts  
As your subjects depart  
Your tyranny  
And begin thinking freely.  
We are voices that scream  
For those who can’t speak  
And the hands that fight  
For those who are weak  
But you don’t want that history.

You’ll write us out  
And burn us down  
Shut us in where we can’t get out  
Hide us from the light of day  
Cause you won’t let us say what we wanna say  
But

We are the misfits running through your kingdom  
We are the castaways that you don’t wanna see  
We will go down  
And remove your crown  
While you erase us from history

And in the end  
It didn’t begin  
Until we said  
That it did  
Others spoke out  
But they were snuffed out  
And an idea grew  
That began a mutiny  
Where we said “no more”  
Turned our battles into war  
We started writing history

We are the misfits running through your kingdom  
We are the castaways that you don’t wanna see  
We will go down  
And remove your crown  
While you erase us from history  
(Don’t try erasing us from history)

But in the end  
We will be victorious  
Because you can’t erase us (erase us)  
And in the end  
History will forget you  
But you can’t  
You can’t  
Erase us.

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhh idk if you can tell but this isn't just poetry it's an actual song that I wrote l m a o and I seriously hope you guys like it, when I get better at GarageBand I'm gonna try recording it and like, lmk if you want to hear it??? I'll edit this and link it if I can k babes??
> 
> n e way y'all know the drill, make sure you eat something if you haven't yet today, I love y'all dearly, have a good day my wonderful sheilas blokes and non binary folks!!!!!


	19. Sling me to the moon (and I will sing amongst the stars)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19: Sling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I'm not dead please take this.
> 
> (also I’ve been going through to fix up my notes app (make it cleaner etc.) I feel so sorry for y’all, why didn’t anyone tell me my end notes were so long lmao, now I’m super conscious of it aha. <strike>I say as I have a massive end note once again</strike>)

If I floated away,  
Would you care?

If I just… let go of gravity  
And left for space  
Would you miss me?

Would you hear my yell of joy as I use the gravity of the earth  
To sling myself to the moon  
And used that as a starting block  
To leap into the stars?

Would you hear me sing for you,  
The way the stars do,  
Every night, every day,  
A lullaby for everyone who cares to listen?

Would you hear my saddened cries  
When I realise  
That there’s no one there for me,  
And I’m far from _everyone_  
And _everything_  
That I’ve ever loved?

Would you trace my path across the sky,  
With your beautiful eyes,  
The way you would a shooting star?

Would you wish upon my body,  
As I sling myself through space and time,  
And hope that I would come back?

Would you miss my laugh?

Would you miss my smile?

Would you miss my eyes?

Would you miss my voice?

Would you miss _me_?

I may not ever fly to space  
Or let go of gravity and sing among the stars  
Or ever be so far away that I can _never_ see anyone ever again  
(Or at least not for a long while)  
But I hope that you would still miss me.

Every afternoon when we say goodbye after school,  
After every party when everyone is leaving,  
After we watch movies and sit too close on the lounge,  
Even as we go our separate ways for classes,

Do you think of me?

Would you miss me?

Because I think I’d miss you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't you just _love_ having no inspiration for AGES and the one night your brain is just like adshsfskslfhdgjkshf were gonna give this bitch some serotonin and some romanticism and some specific thoughts about how she maybe likes That Person and give her a HUGE amount of inspiration to top it all off. Like, it's always great when that happens, gotta love being a romantic idiot stuck at home bc it's 10pm at night.
> 
> N e way as y'all know, please kudos and subscribe and leave a message after the beep, feel free to scream at me on [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/iownthecreativewrites/) as well (I've been working on making little "covers" for these stories to make promotional posts for them on my Insta, so I'll hopefully be more active and will probably also spam a bunch lmao).
> 
> Also yes, here it comes: Apology Time With Imi  
I'm soooo sorry that it took me basically a month to post again, I've had a couple written since fucking JANUARY but I hadn't had this one written and this has to go in chronological order so, obviously, I couldn't post. And the school year started on Jan 28 so my motivation and time went WAY down, plus I started yr 10 at a new school so that was extra stress added onto me and I'm taking three extension classes so: lots of hw. Neway I'm actually genuinely sorry, but (touch wood) I'm getting back into the swing of things and hopefully I'm gonna do a bit more writing now! I'm love y'all so much, all 798 of you. I never thought that my dumb rambling writing would reach so many of you, I hope you're enjoying it!!!
> 
> Neway, make sure to set aside time to process feelings and do things you love, and DONT PUSH YOURSELF IF YOU DONT HAVE INSPIRATION, YOU MAY END UP HATING EVERYTHING THAT YOU MAKE OR EVEN THE CRAFT ITSELF. thanks for coming to my TEDtalk sheilas blokes and nonbinary folks, have a lovely evening!


	20. Tread softly with my beating heart (and my fragile thoughts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: Tread

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi uh just letting y'all know this is written in second person??? If that's not your cup of tea, feel free to skip, ig.

You never know how it hurts to be the one child who gets everything different.

And you never realise how softly, how carefully you tread around your feelings until something tramples all over them.

You don't realise that you feel your parents may not exactly love you as much as they love your younger sisters until they get a special goodnight saying with your mum, and your dad _talks_ to them after lights out, when he kisses you goodnight, and they both can go sleep in your parents' bed whenever they want.

You don't realise that you feel a bit left out until your mum half-asses an attempt at the goodnight routine you made up _just for the two of you_, until your dad walks out of the bedroom without even saying 'I love you', until _everyone_ is talking over you at the dinner table and you sit there drowning in noise and your mum looks disappointed when you finally can speak and so you _do_.

(Does she really though? Is it just your head screwing with you, when it's late at night and you can't think right?)

But even as these thoughts swirl in your head, you know they're probably not true. Right? I mean, your parents paid for you to go to boarding school <strike>because they wanted to leave bumfuck nowhere Queensland</strike> and then they _helped you change schools_ and they took you to _New York_ and paid for you to go study at _Cambridge fucking University_ for three weeks on a school trip. 

That means they love you, right?

Right?

_Right?_

<strike>no</strike> yes.

But you're not sure, you're never _really_ sure, so you keep spiralling and reminding yourself that they _do_ love you, it's just that you're the eldest and they might show it a bit differently but they love you!

And you feel like you can never, _ever_, bring this up with them, because the only thing worse than <strike>pissing them off  
annoying them</strike>  
_disappointing_ them is  
<strike>them calling you dramatic</strike>  
_worrying_ them.

So you tiptoe around how you feel, and tread softly and carefully lest you, or your parents, or your sisters blow up and everything comes spilling out in one _ugly_ torrent of doubt and self-hatred.

You know, deep down, that they love you just the same as they love your sisters, but it's hard to remember on nights like this, when you feel so alone that you'd _sell your soul_ for a hug.

But you put on your big girl pants, and you do not cry, because you are part of your family, and the girls in your family do not cry, and you roll over, and stare at the wall, and wait to fall asleep, because that's all you can do on nights like this. Wait to fall asleep, push it aside until morning, bottle it up and tread softly lest it explode from the slightest noise.

And breathe in deep, hold your head up, and go about your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi yes I have another going up, I've just got a bunch written, I'm kinda doing okay with writing??? *confusion* (this was written 26 January. It is now Feb 16. I crashed and burned w motivation almost immediately afterwards l m a o but I mean, at least I have a couple of things to post!)
> 
> N e way as y'all can (maybe?) guess, I was not in a v good place writing this, buuuuuuuut I feel better now! Writing is so cathartic, gotta love writing down your feelings on your place in your family for hundreds of strangers to read but not showing your parents, haha! This _totally_ solves all my problems! *eyeroll intensifies*
> 
> Anyway uh, I would go into why I chose to use second person pronouns, but that would take too much space up l m a o, I apologise for talking so much in my end notes, it just makes me feel nice. I always like it when fic writers try to interact with their audience and stuff, so that's what I tried to do??? I want to feel welcoming and kind lmao, and also I'm a sentimental bastard you likes sharing my thoughts with y'all!!! Ofc, if it's annoying I'll stop, but since only one person has commented on this fic ever, I'm just gonna assume y'all don't feel like chatting w me. Which is fine! I'm not trying to be salty, I'm just letting you know that, since no one has voiced otherwise, I'm gonna keep rambling in the end notes!
> 
> Anyway aaaaaa I'm going over my self-imposed limit but uhh, I hope you all enjoyed! Leave a comment down below and hit that kudos and subscribe button! Make sure you sleep enough that you don't believe everyone hates you, and have a good one sheilas blokes and non binary folks! I love you guys!!


	21. Treasure (that is what you are)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 21: Treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Bruno Mars’ “Treasure” because I have been obsessed with that song for _years_ n yh ik that it’s not super creative or original but :shrug:

To me, the girls that I like are the stars:  
There are so many  
They make the sky interesting  
They are years away and light years out of my league.

I still treasure the crushes with every fibre of my being  
Because they are so beautiful  
So kind  
So _interesting_  
That I cannot help myself  
I would gift those girls with all the stars in the universe if I did not already believe that they are held in their eyes.

On the other hand, the boys that I like are the sun:  
Always there  
Incredibly hot  
If I stay in their presence too long, I will burn.

I treasure these boys, for I know they don't mean for me to burn  
It is a hazard born of how close I wish to be to them  
And a testament to how long they are willing to put up with me  
I wish I could gift those boys with the warmth I feel when i am in their presence, but they wouldn't need it  
There are many who love them already.

And for those who are both or neither or aren't really sure, well  
To me, they are the moon  
Constantly in a state of flux  
Constantly there  
Unashamed of change  
Loved by many  
And I can never tear my eyes away from their beauty.

I treasure these people,  
So unafraid to live their truth,  
And wish I could be closer to them  
Wish I could gift them with the serenity I feel in their presence  
Wish I could compare even slightly to their attractiveness.

My crushes fill a universe  
My stars,  
My sun,  
My moon,  
Those who make my days bright  
And my nights shine  
And show me what I love but cannot gift them  
And how I cannot begin to compare  
To the beauty held in the universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who’s back (back back)  
Back again (gain gain)  
Imi’s back (back back)  
Tell a friend
> 
> I’m sorry I just rlly wanted to do that lmao but guess what y’all!!! We’re ten till the end!! It’s only taken until halfway through February for me to get to this point but whatever, at least I’m nearly done!! (I've had this written and sitting in my drafts since January 26. I actually cannot believe myself.)
> 
> N e way everyone, you know the drill, kudos, comment and/or subscribe if you wanna keep up w my bullshit, feel free to follow me on Instagram ([@iownthecreativewrites](https://www.instagram.com/iownthecreativewrites/)), take care of yourselves and eat breakfast, and ilsym my wonderful sheilas blokes and non binary folks!!! <3


	22. Dear 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22: Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a couple of warnings for this one:
> 
> **Implied/referenced domestic violence, implied/referenced murder, implied/referenced death, implied/referenced arson, speaking of those who have deceased.**
> 
> If there are any Indigenous people reading this work, I do speak about Indigenous who have passed away.
> 
> For everyone, _please_ do not read this chapter unless you feel entirely comfortable, I do not wish to trigger anyone in any way.

Dear 2020,

Eight weeks.

Eight. Weeks.

Eight _fucking weeks_ and already we’ve lost how many?

At _least_ 34 to our bushfires.

Bob Lindsey, died with his wife Gwen Hyde, married for three years, survived by children from previous marriages.

Gwen Hyde, died with her husband Bob Lindsey, called her friend to ask if she knew the number for the fire brigade because she was getting spot fires and didn’t know what to do.

Vivian Chaplain, died in hospital after trying to defend her home, survived by two children and six grandchildren, remembered as a “strong woman”

George Nole, died in his car near Glen Innes, wanting to die at home after he was diagnosed with leukaemia in 2014.

Julie Fletcher, found in a burnt-out building, a “quality person” whose family had lived there for decades.

Barry Parsons, died alone, likely scared, and will be missed by his community.

Chris Savva, found by his neighbour after his route out of the fire zone was blocked by a burnt out bridge, and his SUV rolled down an embankment.

Geoffrey Keaton, deputy captain of the Horsley Park volunteer fire brigade, father to a little boy, engaged to a wonderful woman, a tree fell on the road and made his firetruck veer and roll.

Andrew O’Dwyer, working with Geoffrey, two volunteers dead when their firetruck veered off the road and rolled.

Samuel McPaul, another volunteer, a soon to be father, his firetruck flipped in a “fire tornado”.

Robert Salway, Patrick Salway, a father and son found by their wife and mother, defending their property.

Ian McBeth, Paul Clyde Hudson, Rick A DeMorgan Jr, three American aerial firefighters, all killed in the Snowy Mountains crash, all sons, brothers, husbands, fathers.

Ten more dead from New South Wales, none of them yet identified:

A man found on Belowra Road, a man found outside a home at Yatte Yattah, a man found on Wandra Road, a person found outside a home at Coolagolite, a man found in a car off the Princes Highway at Yatte Yattah, a man died of a heart attack helping a friend defend their property near Batlow, a man confirmed dead on a property in Nerringundah in the Eurobodalla Shire, a man from Cobargo died in Sydney’s Concord hospital, a man at a burnt-out house near Moruya.

And that’s just New South Wales. That is _one state_. 25 deaths in one state.

5 deaths in Victoria (David Moresi, Mick Roberts, Fred Becker, Mat Kavanagh, Bill Slade) and 3 in South Australia (Ron Selth, Dick Lang, Clayton Lang).

23 names found for those who didn’t make it through our fires.

12 more whose names couldn’t be found.

25 million hearts breaking, tears streaming, voices screaming, _begging_ our government to do something, _anything_, to give us hope.

The fires are out, but that doesn’t mean their memories don’t still haunt us, follow us around, beg us to remember them, don’t forget them, learn from what killed them and don’t ever, _ever_ let the government cut funding to our firefighters, what the fuck were they thinking?

This isn’t just about the fires. This isn’t just about the bullshit you’re putting my country through with weather, though, 2020.

This is about the eight women we lost in the span of eight weeks.

The eight women we lost to their husbands, to their fathers, to their sons, to men they _trusted_ and _shouLD HAVE BEEN SAFE WITH_.

Eight women, in eight weeks.

That’s a woman killed _every. Damn. Week._ since the start of the year. That’s a horrifying statistic, isn’t it 2020?

I know you’re busy fucking up everyone’s lives and everyone’s sanity and our world in general, but please, _please_ for the love of everything, please stop taking our women, our children.

Why did they have to go?

None of them wanted to.

But the body of Christine Neilan was still found in the bushland near Lightning Ridge on January 9th. She was just _walking her dog_ and her body was found with serious head injures. Her family still wants justice. She was 39, and Indigenous, and no one has come forward.

But Kimberley McRae was still found dead in her Coogee unit on January 14th. She had lived on that street for more than _12 years_, she was “an icon of Coogee for over a decade.” Her killer has not been found. She was 69, and trans, and she didn’t even make the news.

But a woman was still fatally wounded on January 19th, by a 25-year-old man who she was reportedly in an arranged marriage with. He turned himself in, and was charged with murder. I don’t know her name. I don’t know her age. I don’t know who she was, but I sure as fuck am still going to remember her.

On January 28th, Maud Steenbeek was murdered when her neighbour allegedly snuck through one of her back windows when she was on a Skype call with family. She was heard screaming for him to “leave [her] alone”, she was 61, her son found her body, her killer has not been found.

One day later - _one fucking day later_ \- on the 29th of January, a 16-year-old boy stabbed his stepmother to death in Sydney. She was found with multiple stab wounds in her back, she was critically injured and taken to hospital, she later died from her injuries. She was found at 1:30am, she was 42, she is unnamed.

On February 4th, a woman in her 40s was found dead with stab wounds in south-eastern Melbourne. She was stabbed inside her house in Seaford - a place that she should have felt safe in - and ran onto the footpath for help. Three young children bore witness to the stabbing, a man was arrested and has been charged with one count of murder. 

We lost an unnamed woman from Brisbane’s north, when a man set her house on fire. She was rescued and resuscitated, but she died in hospital on the 9th of February. She was 50, his charges were upgraded from attempted murder and arson to murder, and people will still argue that it wasn’t domestic violence.

And then.

And then.

And then there’s Hannah Clarke, brave and strong Hannah Clarke with her beautiful children, all of whom are dead, _dead_, murdered by a man who does not deserve to be named. And there are people out there, asking why he was driven to do it? As if he was a passenger, instead of a man, a _grown-ass man_ who is fully in charge of his actions, who decided to set his wife and kids on fire and then kill himself. Her children died on the 18th of February, burning to death in the car on the school run. They were 3, 4, and 6. Their names were Trey, Laianah, and Aaliyah. Hannah died 24 hours later, on the 19th of February, in the Royal Brisbane and Women’s hospital. She was 31. Her killer is dead, her family and her country are mourning, and we will not let her memory die.

We will not forget her, just as we will not forget anyone else.

We will not shun her, we will use what happened to her as a way to make sure that everyone, _everyone_ is safe.

Dear 2020,

I hope you read this.

I hope you read it and weep, for everyone who has died, for all of these ghosts, eight weeks into the year, all of these ghosts, begging we remember them, all of these ghosts, gone far too soon.

I hope you remember them, 2020, because if this is how we started then I’m fucking scared to see how we end.

Dear 2020, these people didn’t deserve to die.

They didn’t deserve to hurt.

They don’t deserve to just be ghosts.

And there are so many of them now.

All of these ghosts are haunting this country, are the _casualties of 2020_ and you better remember their fucking names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This was a lot more political than I usually get, and a lot more steeped in facts than I usually write, and before anyone asks for sources, they are all listed here.
> 
> [The amount of women killed in 2020, and their names](https://www.mamamia.com.au/women-killed-2020)  
[What happened to Hannah Baxter and her family](https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2020/feb/20/brisbane-car-fire-hannah-baxters-family-say-they-tried-to-rescue-her-and-children-from-violent-husband)  
[Where I found the number of people who live in Australia](https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2020/jan/02/mothers-daughters-fathers-sons-the-victims-of-the-australian-bushfires>The%20names%20and%20stories%20of%20those%20who%20died%20in%20the%202019-2020%20Australian%20bushfires</a>%0A<a%20href=)
> 
> I'm not going to lie, I was in tears as I wrote this. This piece is close to my heart, and every shitty thing that has happened so far in 2020 has hit me harder than I thought it would. The statistic of eight women being killed in eight weeks? Scares the shit out of me. The number of people dead in the bushfires? So fucking saddening.
> 
> I guess this was just a way for me to get stuff off my chest, and I'm not gonna say "hope you enjoyed it" but I am gonna say that I hope you became more informed. I dunno if you came to me for this stuff, but it's what I felt like writing so it's what you're gonna get. 
> 
> Have a good one, sheilas blokes and non binary folks.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on the bus on the way back from the movies, and I wasn’t really sure about it.   
But, I mean, I ended up liking it, so!
> 
> Comments and kudos are welcome!
> 
> Come find me on Instagram at iownthecreativewrites if you want to chat!  
(Or not. I don’t mind. It’s your choice)


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